


Princely

by MilkTeaMiku



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:27:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 50,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Fell Winter, Hobbits were sent to live in the Elven Citadels. Raised by Elves, Bilbo has never seen a Dwarf or the world outside of the Greenwood, and when the chance arises, he takes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo joins a company of Elves on his first visit to Erebor.

After the Fell Winter, the Hobbits of the Shire were widely displaced. Living in the Shire was no longer a safe or viable option, and many young Hobbits not yet of age were left without any experience to speak of, or any parents or relatives left living who could care for them.

The displaced Hobbits were escorted by Rangers who had come to help them in their greatest time of need to the great citadels of the Elves. Halflings, as many had come to call them, were rather like the Elves in their ways of peace and wisdom. The pointed ears of Hobbits led many to believe that the gentlefolk were once part Elf – it helped further the relations between the two races, if nothing else. 

Originally, Hobbits lived below the Vales of Anduin. Of course, their race eventually moved north and east, to more fertile and less rugged lands where they finally founded what came to be known as the land of the Shire. There were still rumours of a small civilisation of Hobbits living in the Anduin Vale, but it would be too much for those now used to the tenets of the Shire to travel that a distance and re-root themselves in such a different environment. 

Bilbo had been one such Hobbit living comfortably in the Shire. Displaced by the events of the Fell Winter, he was redeposited in the land known as the Greenwood when he was nought but a babe. He didn’t remember much of the Shire, now; nothing more than vague images of his home and of sprawling green hills as far as he could see, but he did remember enough of his father and his mother to be content.

He was quite comfortable living in the Greenwood. He’d made many friends amongst both Elves and Hobbits alike during the time he grew up in the Greenwood. He was close with Hamfast Gamgee, a Hobbit with brown hair that was several shades different to Bilbo’s own, as well as the Elves Galion and Elros, both of whom had the awful tendency of drinking a little too much wine when allowed, although Bilbo couldn’t fault them as it was rather good wine. 

When Bilbo was just coming of age, he found that he was quite good at riding. More than just quite good, but very naturally talented, in fact. Not with the magnificent horses that the Elves frequently rode, no, he was far too small in stature for that, but the ponies he could handle marvellously well.

Eventually, the Elven King Thranduil placed him in charge of them. It was an honour that no other Hobbit had been given, one that Bilbo took with much pride. He could hardly fathom it himself, but the King was fond of his Hobbit charges, and was pleased with their agricultural achievements in the Greenwood. Bilbo supposed it helped that he had been the grandson of the Thain from the Shire – almost royalty, though still the most royal Hobbit in all of the Greenwood. 

It was exciting to Bilbo, especially considering his ponies were the nicest in all of the Greenwood – and as such when it was decided that it was his ponies that would accompany a troop of Elves and a handful of horses to a meeting with the Dwarves from the esteemed Erebor. Bilbo, unlike his Hobbit counterparts in the Greenwood, had a bit of an adventurous streak, even though he’d hardly been out of the Elven gates. He wanted to see more of the world.

Either way, he didn’t hesitate to accept Thranduil’s generous offer. He’d never met a Dwarf before, and despite the scoffs they often received from the Elves, Bilbo was endlessly curious about them and their culture. He’d only heard tales of their great halls and their mines of gold and precious gems. Not to mention their _beards._

Bilbo was the only Hobbit to join the company journeying to Erebor, but he didn’t particularly mind. By now, the race differences were all blurred lines. Galion was joining them, although he whined about being apart from Elros – they were usually together for these kind of things, as it was easier to keep an eye on them that way. Tauriel was a part of the guard accompanying Legolas, the Prince, who would act on behalf of Thranduil. 

It was decided that three of Bilbo’s ponies would be taken along – Myrtle, Minty and Maisy – to carry provisions and supplies as well as the items of trade that were too precious for the faster moving horses to carry. Bilbo rode Myrtle, so Minty and Maisy were tasked with carrying the supplies. He was careful not to overload them, but he knew they were strong. He was quite proud, if he were being completely honest.

Their journey began early in the morning. They set off before Bilbo unfortunately had any time for second breakfast, although he admittedly was too excited to care. Galion was quite enthusiastic about it all, too, and chatted quite happily with Bilbo for so long that the other Elves tired of hearing his voice. 

Bilbo just laughed at the auburn-haired Elf. He was too enthralled himself to mind Galion’s keen charisma, regardless of Galion’s overtly chatty nature. Soon he would be meeting _Dwarves!_ How could he not be excited?

 

The small company first made camp once they had exited to the plains through the paths of the Greenwood. They were in no rush whatsoever, and thus spent their first night lying under the clear view of the stars where they could watch twinkling reflections from Esgaroth on the lake and feel the gentle murmurings of the forest unhindered. Bilbo slept pressed against Galion for warmth, as the Elves did not require sleep, but rather they sometimes entered a mediative state that was similar enough. 

Most Elves were not unwilling to spend a night huddled with a Hobbit, Bilbo found. Their platonic bonds ran quite deep, and was quite fulfilling. Elves could be very affectionate when Hobbits were convincing enough to keep them around. 

The company carried on towards the Lake’s edges the next morning, following the path the river cut into the land. It was quite scenic, and Bilbo enjoyed the view immensely. The Dwarves would meet them at Dale, the city just beyond the lake, and accompany them to Erebor from there. 

It took the Elves less than a day to traverse Esgaroth and make it to Dale, ponies and horses in tow. All in all, it was a rather leisurely, picturesque journey. They’d left half a day early so that they could linger in the open land, and it was well worth it. While the closeness of the trees in the Greenwood was undeniably comforting, sometimes it was relaxing to be on the open plains where one could freely feel the wind on their skin and in their hair. 

“The Dwarves should come to escort us within a few hours.” Legolas said as he dropped down from his horse with a stunning amount of grace. “We shall wait for them here.”

It seemed that even with their lingering, they had arrived at the meeting point early. Bilbo wanted to chuckle at the thought – quite studious, his Elvish friends. Never late, not even once. They could have had second breakfast and still been on time.

“Do you want to run the ponies around for a bit, Bilbo?” Tauriel asked as she wandered over to run a soothing hand down Minty’s neck. “I do believe they won’t have a chance like this for a while, not on a plain like this. The ground isn’t too rough – the closer we get to the mountain, the rockier it will become.” 

Bilbo had started nodding before she finished her sentence. “Yes, I do believe that’s a good idea.” He agreed, carefully dropping down from Myrtle’s back. “Would you mind helping me untie their packs?”

Tauriel set to unloading Minty’s packs as Bilbo did the same for Myrtle and Maisy. He left them in neat piles along with the pony’s saddles, before remounting Myrtle without the leather seating in place. The sweet thing didn’t mind – his grip was gentle on her mane, and his legs and knees were too short to even hint at pain when he tightened them over her back. 

“We’ll watch over you.” Tauriel pet his knee reassuringly. “Can’t have the King’s prized pony carer running off, can we?”

“You tease too much.” He grinned at her. “I wouldn’t dare risk the wrath of my King, he’s much too tall for me to take on!”

Tauriel laughed. Her voice wasn’t as soft as other She-Elves, but it was raw and foolhardy and soothing. “Off you go, then. We’ll call you when the Dwarves show themselves.”

Bilbo didn’t need to be told twice. Gently, he prodded Myrtle into a slow trot, and signalled the other two ponies to follow. He’d trained them for years under Thranduil’s orders, teaching them a series of voice commands, hand signals and sounds like clicks and whistles that they responded remarkably well to. The ponies could tell when they were being let free to stretch their legs, and followed eagerly after Bilbo.

They were rather beautiful creatures, he thought, as Myrtle slowly gathered speed. She had wonderfully vibrant chestnut coloured fur, with a stark white strip up her nose. Minty was lighter, more of a beige colour, with white socks on her legs, as Bilbo liked to call them. Maisy was probably the prettiest of them all – pure white, with soft-edged stains of black and a particularly pretty circle of black around one eye and on one matching ear. Her fur was by far the softest of them all.

The breeze was gentle, and toyed with their manes prettily as the ponies danced across the plain. For a moment, Bilbo closed his eyes to the coolness of the wind, feeling open and at ease. Myrtle tossed her head and let out a pleased whinny as she skipped across the thin grass. Bilbo opened his eyes once more, and watched, vigil, as Minty and Maisy took an alternate path in their trot. He gently steered Myrtle after them, intent on keeping a loose eye on the two ponies.

It was peaceful to ride like this, without all the saddles and the packs weighing them down. Bilbo felt more connected to the ponies like this than he had in a long time. It was truly quite comforting. 

 

Bilbo was still with the ponies when the Dwarves arrived riding their own collection of ponies and rams.

In fact, they appeared before Bilbo even noticed them. Myrtle reared up as they suddenly entered the plain, and whinnied loudly at the ponies that approached them. She was startled, and Bilbo flailed for a moment, gripping her main too tightly.

“Calm, _mellon.”_ He murmured, squeezing his knees to steer her to the side as he leaned forwards to stroke her neck. Myrtle fidgeted, but quietened quickly under Bilbo’s gentle ministrations. He glanced at the Dwarves once he was sure Myrtle was settled, and was startled to find that quite a few were staring at him… oddly. He supposed they’d never come across a Hobbit before.

“You are with the Elves.” The leader of the Dwarves said, watching him curiously with a pair of dark blue eyes.

Bilbo grinned despite himself. “I am.” He agreed, straightening his back. “Come, this way.” He spurred Myrtle onwards, and she sprang into action instantly, startling the Dwarves. Bilbo laughed quietly, his voice lost to the wind, and led Myrtle back to his friends. Maybe he was showing off, but Myrtle was just so beautiful, and all on show without her saddle. 

Tauriel had already lured Minty and Maisy back to the group, and had both saddled when Bilbo led the Dwarves over. Legolas began the necessary niceties as Bilbo dismounted so that he could start preparing Myrtle to travel to the gates of Erebor. 

He glanced up upon feeling eyes watching him, and caught the gaze of the Dwarven leader again. The Dwarf looked rather affronted a being caught, but Bilbo just grinned, cheeks still flushed from riding the pony across the plain.

 

“You seem rather smiley today.” Galion observed as they were led through the expansive halls of Erebor.

Bilbo quite likely had a permanent look of awe on his face, wide eyed and slack jawed, but he just couldn’t help it. The halls were _wonderful,_ more than he could have ever dreamt of.

“I do?” He answered airily. 

“Yes, you do.” Galion said, pinching Bilbo’s chubby cheek teasingly. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the Dwarves, would it? Because my all-seeing eyes have seen quite a bit of fawning that has been done today.”

Bilbo flushed horribly, and scowled up at the tall Elf. “I’ve done no such thing.”

“I didn’t say it was you who had done the fawning, now did I?”

Bilbo hoped his expression didn’t go all awe-struck and gooey, but he didn’t have much control over it, he told himself. “Really…?”

Galion rolled his eyes daintily, and placed a friendly hand down on Bilbo’s shoulder. “You, my dear friend, have a lot of work cut out for you if you wish to go barking up that particular tree.”

Bilbo gave him a puzzled frown.

“That Dwarf you have taken an interest in – don’t deny it, my dear, it’s as obvious as daylight – happens to be _Thorin Oakenshield,_ Prince of Erebor.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

Galion hummed. “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much. He seems rather taken with you, too. I was watching, you know, when Myrtle first ran into their company. He looked rather infatuated at your mere presence atop your pony. I can hardly say I blame him.”

This time, Bilbo rolled his eyes. “You’re a sweet talker, Galion, but I can see through your jests.”

“I jest not!” Galion chuckled. “You wear a beautiful circlet, and are dressed in the finest clothes. You ride a beautiful pony, whose mane is long and straight. And you’re quite beautiful yourself, the perfect size for a Dwarf.”

Bilbo huffed, elbowing the Elf for the height remark. It was a constant running joke amongst their two races – friendly, and never taken too far, but constant.

“You are quite the catch, my friend.” Galion summed up. He looked rather proud of himself. “And anyone should know they are lucky to have your attentions.”

“I hardly think I’m worthy of a Prince.”

“Are you not a Prince yourself?”

Bilbo shook his head. “Distantly, perhaps, if I still lived in the Shire and was governed by a Thain from my lineage, as per how it was before the Fell Winter. Now, however… now I am not much more than a pony trainer, it seems.”

Galion sighed. “To think, a dear friend of mine is so grievously insulted by himself. How am I meant to defend his honour?”

Bilbo snorted. “Spare me the dramatics, Galion. You’re far too well versed in them.”

Galion simply smiled. “In any case, if I were you, I’d keep my fawning out of the eyes of a certain blonde Prince of ours. He’s rather protective of his father’s favourite pony trainer, you see.”

Bilbo just groaned.

 

Delegations amongst the two races started out nice and smoothly, Bilbo heard. He wasn’t much involved in the politics of it all, as it wasn’t his place. In essence, he was the pack horse, there to care for their animals and ensure the wellbeing of the ponies in particular.

And while Myrtle, Minty and Maisy were not entirely fond of the rocky terrain of the mountain, they certainly did enjoy the foreign food the Dwarves had to offer. Their crops were hardier than those the Elves grew, and although finding sweets like apples and other little greeneries and treats was a difficult task, the hay was plenty and the stables provided for their care were surprisingly comfortable. 

It took Bilbo quite some time to find the stables when he first went looking for them. He’d been left to his own devices after the first night they spent in Erebor. Tauriel and a handful of other Elves that had accompanied them along with Legolas were attending various meetings with the Dwarven royalty, while Galion and the remaining Elves were off doing something else of great importance, Bilbo was sure.

He just wanted to check on the ponies.

The halls of Erebor were great and winding. Bilbo thought he had never walked down and up so many stairs in all his life, and yet even with all his wandering he still struggled to find a doorway or any sign of the stables. He’d never been so lost in all his life. In fact, he was getting rather frustrated with it all.

Frustrated enough to accidentally trip down the flight of stairs, it seemed.

A shocked cry left his lips as he pitched forwards. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, expecting pain, but instead wide hands gripped him under his arms and hauled him back upright. Bilbo squealed as he was pulled flush against a sturdy and solid body. He slowly tilted his head back, eyes widened, and was met with the flushed face of one Thorin Oakenshield.

“Ah…” Thorin carefully released him when he realised his hands were still clutched tightly to Bilbo’s sides.

Bilbo just smiled at him, heart fluttering and flustered. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.” Thorin murmured, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

He had quite a youthful face, Bilbo thought. A strong nose, something to certainly grow into, and thick hair pulled into a loose but very attractive ponytail. Bilbo could spot glistening clasps holding braids weaved into the mix of dark locks. His eyes, as they were before, were a deep blue, deeper than Bilbo thought he had ever seen. Thorin was painfully handsome. 

Bilbo startled, again, when he realised he hadn’t yet introduced himself to the handsome Dwarf. A little shyly, he held out his hand. “My name is Bilbo Baggins.” He said. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Thorin Oakenshield.” The Dwarf answered, reaching out to grip Bilbo’s hand. “Likewise.”

Bilbo stared down widely at their joined hands. Thorin’s hand was so much larger than his – tanned, and calloused from hard labour and extensive physical training. One of his fingers was easily as big as two of Bilbo’s. His grip was strong and warm, somehow still gentle, even though Bilbo knew that those hands were so much sturdier than the Hobbit’s own.

Thorin appeared just as enraptured. In fact, it took the both of them a moment to draw their hands back.

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to point me in the direction of the stables, would you?” Bilbo asked. “I think I’ve gotten myself rather lost.”

Thorin offered him a small, reassuringly smile. “Yes. I’ll accompany you, if you’re amenable.” 

“Sure.” Bilbo grinned.

“Are you in charge of caring for the ponies?” Thorin asked as he led Bilbo in what the Hobbit guessed was the right direction. “They seem rather taken with you.”

Bilbo laughed. “Yes, they are in my charge.” He said proudly. “King Thranduil assigned them to me specifically. I’m rather taken with them too, I must admit. I enjoy caring for them.”

“They’re quite beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo’s heart jumped at the praise. Any compliment directed to his ponies had him grinning. “Ah, should you not be in a meeting, or something of the sort? I hate to think I’m wasting your time…”

Thorin shook his head. “It’s quite alright.” He said. “My father is handling all negotiations with the Elves, and my younger brother is with your other companions. I’m not particularly needed, it seems.”

“You can show me around then!” Bilbo decided. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would love to see more of Erebor. It’s so magnificent, I’ve not seen anything like it ever before.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Thorin agreed, looking pleased as they neared the stables. Bilbo could smell the faint scent of hay, and hear the sound of hooves scuffing against the stone floor. “You’ll have to show me your ponies in return.”

“Deal!” Bilbo laughed. Almost instinctively, he reached out to grip Thorin’s hand in both of his own, to pull the Dwarf along quicker to the stables. It took him a moment to realise his actions, and he hastily dropped Thorin’s hand, frowning in embarrassment.

But Thorin only offered his hand out again, looking tentative.

Bilbo returned the look bashfully, and held Thorin’s big hand once more as they moved towards the entrance to the stables.

Maybe there was a little fawning going on, he supposed. Just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After many, many months, I finally turned back to this :') I've had heaps written from it (carrying on from the first two editions last year) and now I finally have time to finish them!


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas is protective, but Bilbo manages to spend time with Thorin regardless.

Bilbo hummed to himself quietly, a carrying tune taught to him long ago by the Elves who rocked him to sleep as a babe, as he carefully pulled a brush through Myrtle’s mane. He gently pulled untangled knots apart, and smoothed away snares given by the wind and by the way she tossed her head. It was a relaxing process, one that both pony and Hobbit enjoyed.

Once the fine hair was tangle free, he set to weaving in decorative braids. Between the twists of hair he wove in wild flowers of all shapes and colours that he’d stumbled upon during his afternoon walk along the curve of the mountain the previous day. He knew upon first seeing those flowers that they’d look wonderful in Myrtle’s mane. His company had been in Erebor for what would be two days by the time the sun peeked above the horizon, but even so Bilbo still found sleep difficult to attain. The deep halls of Erebor were not quite what he was accustomed to, after all.

Regardless, he spent his restless hours choosing to do something productive – caring for and grooming his ponies. He took great pride in their perfect appearance, and as such enjoyed caring for them. It was his job, in either case, so he supposed he was lucky that he enjoyed it so.

He hadn’t expected anyone to join him in the stables so late at night, however.

“Master Baggins, you’re certainly up late.”

Bilbo startled at the voice, his head jerking up as he hurriedly murmured something soft and comforting in Elvish to Myrtle to still her antsy hooves. “I couldn’t sleep.” He told the Prince, offering a hesitant smile. “I came here instead. I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course. I’m glad to see you did not lose your way again.” Thorin said, stepping down into the stables to offer a hand to Myrtle’s curious nose. “You’re braiding her mane.”

Bilbo smiled a little wider. “I am.” He replied, turning back to weave a violet coloured flower into the smooth hair between his fingers. “It’s quite therapeutic, and it keeps the hair from tangling too awfully in the wind.” 

Thorin hummed, surveying Bilbo’s work with inquisitive eyes. “Why can you not find sleep?”

“I’m unused to the mountain.” Bilbo admitted. “Its noises, its temperatures, the way the corridors grow dark… I suppose I’m used to the comforts my home.”

“Understandable.” He said. “Are our homes so different?”

“Well, we don’t live in a mountain, for one.” Bilbo laughed quietly. “But it’s more the idea of familiarity, I suppose? I’m used to with the wilderness, with the trees of the Greenwood and the gentle music of Elves who spend nights singing under the stars and dancing… It’s quite comforting.”

“Sounds very… Elvish.”

Bilbo laughed. Thorin had developed a cute little crinkle between his brows. “Elves and Dwarves don’t quite get along, do they?” He said. “It’s quite a rivalry your race has, you know.”

Thorin cracked a small smile. “And you?” The Dwarf asked. “What are you?”

Bilbo blinked, puzzled, as a moment passed before realisation struck him. “Why, I’m a Hobbit.”

“A Hobbit?”

“A Halfling.” Bilbo said. “As some have come to call us.”

“Why do you reside with the Elves?”

“Because none other would take us in.” Bilbo answered, turning back to brush Myrtle’s mane a little more thoroughly so that he would have somewhere else to direct his eyes.

“What happened?” Thorin asked. “Ah, if you do not mind me asking, that is…”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “It’s fine.” He said. “I used to live in the Shire, at a place called Hobbiton.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Thorin admitted regretfully.

“It’s alright, I hardly expect you to have.” Bilbo replied. “Hardly any have heard of the Shire, or of inhabitants. We’re not particularly remarkable – no magic or immortality like the Elves, no halls of gold and forges of the highest quality like the Dwarves. Not even the population or building expertise of the Men.”

“Then, what do Hobbits have?”

“We had…” Bilbo smiled ruefully, trying to recall the faint memories he had of the Shire. It was harder than he would have liked it to be. “We had gardens, wonderful gardens and rolling hills of green. We had big families, and seven meals a day, and waistcoats! And houses set beneath hills, in smials, with winding hallways and circle-shaped doors…”

Thorin was silent, but he’d picked up a brush and was gently stroking Myrtle’s flank. She seemed to rather enjoy the extra attention.

“When I was a child, it grew very cold.” Bilbo said, stilling his hands absently. “We call it the Fell Winter. At the time, those participating in the war attacked the Shire, like an afterthought, as though they were bored. Wolves and Orcs destroyed everything, everyone… Those who did not perish in the initial attacks starved to death, or froze. Rangers did all they could to help us, but when it became clear that there was nothing to be done and the ground had been destroyed by permafrost, they moved us to Elven citadels. It was the only viable option for our survival.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense, you’ve nothing to apologise for.” Bilbo answered, forcing a smile as he picked up his braiding again. “The Hobbits of the Shire that were without family or without any other means of living were taken in by the Elves. Many of my old friends live in Rivendell, but I reside in the Greenwood. We are quite far in the debt of the Elves, but they do not expect us to pay them back at all – in fact, they’re quite adverse to the idea. I know I’ll certainly never be able to thank them enough for caring for me.”

“Then your parents...”

“Yes, they died.” Bilbo said. “But the pain of their passing has long since been numbed by time. Now I spend my days helping the agricultural department and caring for the ponies.”

“Your ponies are quite beautiful.” Thorin observed. “More so than the ones we have here.”

Bilbo flushed a little. “Thank you.”

Thorin opened his mouth to say something else, but the sound of soft footfalls stopped him.

Bilbo was surprised to find none other than Legolas peering at him from the doorway. The Elf’s eyes were bright blue and searching, and narrowed at the sight of the Dwarf. Fortunately, Legolas wasn’t the type to provoke when provocation wasn’t needed, and instead settled his gaze firmly on Bilbo.

 _“Bilbo, you should return to our quarters.”_ Legolas murmured in Elvish.

 _“I couldn’t sleep.”_ Bilbo said, frowning a little. _“I thought I’d spend time with Myrtle…”_

 _“I will stay with you.”_ He said. “Come, _mellon._ It shall be sunrise soon, and we have a long day ahead of us.”

Bilbo found that he couldn’t really deny the Elven Prince – as demanding as Legolas could be, he was still one of Bilbo’s closest companions, and his Prince no less. Bilbo knew that Legolas wasn’t as wise in the ways of the world as his father was, not just yet. He still sometimes acted childishly, and jealously, but in a way that was still utterly dignified and hard to dispute. Bilbo didn’t mind bending to his whims, for now.

“It seems it’s my bedtime.” Bilbo smiled at Thorin sheepishly. “Thank you for keeping me company, Prince Oakenshield.”

“It’s quite alright.” Thorin offered his hand, eyes firmly fixed on Bilbo’s face. “Just Thorin is fine.”

Bilbo gladly shook hands with the Dwarf, flushed at the feel of Thorin’s palm against his own. He couldn’t quite get over the feeling of it all, as it was quite surreal. Thorin was rather handsome, after all, and he was a _Dwarf_ no less. Quite exciting, wasn’t it? Like an adventure, all of his own.

“Come.” Legolas murmured, turning away.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Bilbo quickly said to Thorin, eyes hopeful.

The Dwarf just nodded, and although Bilbo felt awful, he hurried after his Elvish friend. Legolas was considerate of his shorter stature, and was slow paced as Bilbo hurried to his side. 

“Are you alright?” Legolas asked.

Bilbo stared up at him, confused. “Perfectly fine.” He said. “Why?”

Legolas didn’t answer him, but his silence nevertheless made Bilbo sigh. 

“Prince Oakenshield is quite a nice person, you know.” He told Legolas. “You shouldn’t be so quick to mistrust him.”

“You’re interested in him.” Legolas murmured. “You know that it is not for the best…”

Bilbo shrugged his shoulders, and muffled a yawn with a hand. “He is handsome.” Bilbo said defensively. “I think… I think he may be interested in me too? I cannot see why- but Galion- Galion said that he might.”

“You know Galion spins tales and jests freely.” Legolas reminded him as they arrived at the rooms they’d been given for the duration of their stay. He directed Bilbo into bed, where after changing behind the privacy of a decorated folding screen Bilbo clambered under the heavy sheets. “We are only here for a week, _mellon.”_

“Don’t get me wrong, Legolas.” Bilbo sighed as he rested his head back against the pillows. He observed the ceiling for a moment. “I know where my loyalties lay. There is not a single person on this earth that could lure me away from my King, or you, my Prince.”

“And yet you hunger for his attention.” Legolas said quietly, extinguishing the single candle sitting on the bedside table. “The Dwarven Prince.”

“Is it so wrong?”

Legolas pulled a chair close to the side of the bed, and rested his hand above Bilbo’s. His skin was uncharacteristically warm. “It is not wrong, but untimely. Perhaps misplaced. I do not see how a merging of our species could produce a courtship worthy of you.”

Bilbo hummed. “There are only so many Hobbits in this world.” He said. “Not even a hundred in the Greenwood. I never thought of myself entering a relationship, but…” He glanced away, flushed. “I find that I rather enjoy the sense of adventure.”

Legolas leaned back, drawing his hand away. It wasn’t a cold gesture. “Either way, I would advise you to avoid any further contact with the Dwarves. That is not your purpose here.”

“If… if it is what you wish-“

“I only wish you the greatest happiness.” Legolas said firmly. “But I do not believe that it lies in the cold and crowded halls of a mountain.”

 

Frustratingly, Legolas somehow managed to keep Bilbo occupied for almost the entire remainder of their stay in Erebor. Some days it was Galion towing him along to various meetings, and at other times it was Tauriel who was roped into keeping an eye on him with training or supervision of the ponies on their daily outing.

When their last day in Erebor drew close, the day before they would leave for the Greenwood, Bilbo finally found himself with free time on his hands. It had just gone lunchtime, but he found his ache to relax bathed in the glow of the sun to be more powerful than his ache to find food.

With that thought in mind, he made his way out onto the slopes of the mountain, to where the trees crept up the rocky outcrops to offer him a shady reprieve from the stone halls of Erebor’s interior. Out here the sun shined freely, and cast warm shadows across rare patches of grass that grew around trees and bushes. They were a sight for sore eyes. 

He was comfortably rested under the toying shade of a particularly sturdy oak tree when a small company of Dwarves rode past on mountain rams.

“Master Baggins?”

Bilbo glanced up at the sound of his name, and felt his eyes widen. “Ah, Prince Oakenshield!”

“Just Thorin is alright.” The Dwarf said, dismounting. Briefly, he turned to his restless companions and spoke something in heavy Khuzdul. The Dwarves continued on their way after a moment, taking Thorin’s steed with them. “What is it to have drawn you from your companions?” 

“Free time, finally!” Bilbo laughed, leaning back against the grass. “It’s a nice day today, is it not?”

“It is.” Thorin agreed as he took a hesitant seat beside Bilbo.

“And you?” Bilbo asked. “What brings you out today?”

“Nothing interesting.” Bilbo answers. “Border patrol.”

Bilbo made an inquisitive noise in the back of his throat. “How are the delegations going? It bored Galion far too much for him to explain it to me.” He chuckled.

“They are going well, I believe.” Thorin said. “As well as it can go between Dwarves and Elves, that is.”

Bilbo sighed, flopping back against the soft grass. Absently, he ran his fingers through it. He’d missed the feel of grass like this, of being able to lay in it so comfortably. He loved the mountain; it was exotic and exciting, but nature was too far engrained in his very being for him to ever give it up. “Of course. The stubbornness of it all astounds me.”

Thorin watched him thoughtfully. “And yet you seem quite carefree.”

“What can I say? All I care for is ponies.” He teased. “Ponies and food.”

“Quite simple wants for such an important Hobbit.”

“Oh, I’m hardly that important.” Bilbo waved a hand, turning on his side to comfortably face the Dwarf. “Not as important as a Prince, surely.”

Thorin’s lips quirked up a little. He hesitantly laid down beside Bilbo – he looked as though he’d never done such a thing, as if relaxing like this was a foreign concept to him. “Important enough to be brought to Erebor all the way from the Greenwood.” He said. “Important enough to care for the King’s ponies.”

“I suppose you have me there.” Bilbo laughed. “Do you not have something important to attend to though, O Great and Important Prince of Erebor? Surely you cannot spend your time here with a Halfling.”

Thorin groaned. “Just Thorin.” He reminded Bilbo. “And I do believe this is… Fostering relations.” He said. “So it’s important.”

“Cheeky!” Bilbo accused, but he was grinning. “You’re just full of surprises, now aren’t you?”

Thorin just smiled. 

 

The time Bilbo spent with Thorin that afternoon was surprisingly uplifting. He learned many new things about the Dwarf, things he was curious about – Thorin’s ears, for example, were pierced with glittering jewellery expertly crafted by his own hand, and the braids he wore in his hair were symbolic of his position as Erebor’s Prince. 

Thorin was very interesting to listen to, Bilbo thought, if Bilbo could manage to goad him into speaking. He was sure that he laid there on the grass with a constantly red-cheeked, awed look on his face, no matter how many times he schooled his expression into being something more presentable and respectful. He couldn’t help it, he just found Thorin Oakenshield so _fascinating._ There was so much for him to learn.

Of course, Bilbo’s disappearance was obviously noticed by his Elves. Nothing ever got by them, as they were far too perceptive and far too clever for that. No one could ever declare an Elf oblivious and be called honest.

Still, Bilbo was a little relieved that it was Galion who was sent to collect him, and not Legolas or one of the others. Galion in particular wasn’t generally as brash towards the Dwarves as other Elves could be, and although he acted more teasingly he was always respectful and largely polite. 

Of course, Galion couldn’t help himself from teasing Bilbo when he found the Hobbit together with the Dwarf in such a friendly situation. He teased all in Elvish, mind, so Thorin had no clue as to what he was saying, but Bilbo ended up extremely flustered anyway. 

Dinner was spent fending off Galion’s playful jests, while for the night he returned to Legolas’s company to sleep. The Elf didn’t further their previous conversation, instead wishing him pleasant dreams before settling in to rest himself. They would leave for home tomorrow, it seemed.

Bilbo tried not to feel disappointed. 

 

Myrtle was all ready to go, kicking at the ground impatiently as the Elves mounted their horses. Bilbo was puttering around for as long as he could, listening to Legolas farewell the last of the Dwarves, wishing he had the courage to farewell Thorin personally.

Fortunately for him, it seemed that Thorin had just the same thing in mind.

The Dwarven Prince offered his hand to Bilbo as he approached. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Master Baggins.” He said. “You’re welcome to visit Erebor any time you wish.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened hopefully as he hurried to slip his hand into Thorin’s grip. “Thank you for having us.” He replied, smiling shyly. “I enjoyed my time here. I hope to see you again.”

“As do I.” Thorin answered confidently. 

Bilbo hesitated for a moment, biting his lip, but in the spur of the moment he decided to dart forwards and embrace Thorin. The Dwarf, although surprised, was quick to return the warm gesture. It was swift, yes, but oddly fulfilling.

He couldn’t help but grin as he mounted Myrtle with an amount of grace he was thankful for. “Farewell then, Prince Oakenshield.”

“Just Thorin is fine…!” Thorin murmured uselessly as Myrtle kicked off in favour of chasing the other horses.

The wind was refreshing on Bilbo’s face, if a little chilly, and although he was sorely tempted to glance back at the Dwarves he refrained from doing so. Instead, he spurred on Myrtle, content to show off her dashing prowess. 

_“Do you wish to ride ahead with me?”_ Legolas asked, glancing down at Bilbo as Myrtle levelled with his stallion. Bilbo didn’t think Legolas was offering him a choice, but he wasn’t offended by the notion. Legolas was just protective of him is all, and Bilbo was old enough to recognise that. It wasn’t a new notion to him, and if it gave him the chance to show off Myrtle further… Well.

 _“Tauriel, can you watch after the ponies?”_ Bilbo called over his shoulder, twisting his head back to meet her observant eyes.

The Silvan Elf nodded her head without hesitation.

Legolas urged his horse faster, and the stallion instantly took off across the plain. Bilbo grinned at the small, unspoken challenge and spurred on Myrtle once more. Ponies were no match for a horse as well-bred and well-trained as Legolas’s, couldn’t even possibly be on equal ground, but the Elf was being playful, taunting Bilbo. It was familiar and comforting and childish, and Bilbo loved it. This side of Legolas didn’t often show itself, not anymore.

Bilbo laughed into the wind, tilting his face up. His curls would surely be tangled and difficult to tame afterwards, and his cheeks were likely flushed from exhilaration, but he didn’t care. It was exciting to be like this. Myrtle was brilliant, easily keeping pace with the speed Legolas’s stallion set, tossing her head and whinnying joyfully.

 _“You still admire the Dwarf.”_ Legolas said.

 _“I do.” Bilbo agreed._ “I still mean what I told you before, Legolas, but...”

“I understand.” Legolas murmured.

Bilbo wasn’t quite sure if he did, but he filed away the thought for later considerations. That Legolas was even trying was good enough for him.

 

Although Bilbo was glad to be back home in the Greenwood, he found that he rather missed Erebor and its winding corridors. Hamfast was quite inquisitive regarding his time there, as were the other Hobbits, but after telling the story a dozen times he tired of it.

He spent much of his free time with the ponies, thinking of ways to visit Erebor again. He wouldn’t have said that he was sad, because he loved the Greenwood more than anything, but he did miss Thorin. He felt as though he’d only been given a small taste of something quite delicious. It wasn’t enough.

One day, the fields where the ponies remained were visited by the Great King himself. 

“King Thranduil.” Bilbo scrambled to attention from his seat on the grass as the Elven King approached. He hurriedly brushed the pony hair off his trousers, lamenting the fact that he was hardly presentable to be in the King’s company. “Is there something I may help you with?” 

“I have been sent many admirations for my ponies from the Dwarves.” Thranduil murmured, eyeing him curiously. “They seemed rather impressed by your creatures.”

Bilbo flushed, pleased. “I’m glad.”

“I’ve heard many other tales, too.” Thranduil said. “Do you care to hear them?”

Bilbo flushed even darker, sinking into his shoulders. “Ah…”

Thranduil chuckled. The King wasn’t often this… _Open_ around his subjects, but despite his colder appearance he cared for everyone in his realm very deeply, whether they believed it or not. “It seems as though my son thinks you’ve charmed the Dwarven Prince.”

Bilbo cringed. “I assure you, my King, that my allegiances like only with you-“

“I have no doubt.” Thranduil assured him. “And yet, you appear quite… _charmed_ as well.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

“It is nothing to apologise to me for.” Thranduil said. “The Dwarves have suggested our trade be expanded to include animals, too.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened.

Thranduil watched him carefully. “Is that something you wish for?”

Bilbo knew that Thranduil wasn’t asking about the trade. He glanced away indecisively. “I… I’d like to try, if at all possible. I don’t want to leave my home here, but…” He thought of Thorin’s charming little smile, so small it was hard to notice, the one that only appeared when he thought it wouldn’t be noticed. He couldn’t help but smile himself just at the thought of it.

“I’ll see what can be arranged.”


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arrangement is made.

Predictably, Bilbo was in the pony field when Galion came wandering over with Elros in tow to bother him. Unsurprisingly, it was Bilbo’s newfound affections towards a certain Dwarf of Erebor that remained the subject of Galion’s teasing.

“Galion tells me your Dwarf is quite tall.” Elros said pleasantly. Unlike his auburn-haired friend, he didn’t often jest – he was much more placid, and generally quite studios, but Galion was able to sway him into mischief splendidly well, which is what often got him into trouble. Despite that, his tone was still honest and curious.

“For a Dwarf.” Galion added.

Bilbo shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. “He’s taller than me by a fair bit, certainly.” Bilbo nodded. “Taller than some of his companions, too. Of course, he’s not as tall as you.”

“I would not expect him to be.” Elros said as he took a seat beside Bilbo on a protruding tree root that had been fashioned into a comfortable seat. “But you harbour affections for him, do you not?”

Bilbo flushed. “I… Possibly.”

“He very much does.” Galion interrupted, as he smiled impertinently. It was still odd to see an Elf look so cheeky. “Did quite a bit of fawning, he did, and took every opportunity to show off his ponies! It was quite a show.”

“Galion!”

Elros just laughed at his friend’s teasing. His voice was soft and melodic; much different to Galion’s. He was subtle and calming when he expressed his joy, like tinkling wind chimes. “I can only imagine he was enthralled by our dear Hobbit, then. Effortlessly charmed.”

“That is quite correct, my friend!” Galion exclaimed. He swept up the hands of both Elros and Bilbo in his excitement. “It was surely effortless! No one can resist the charms of someone so beautifully presented.”

“I feel like you’re talking that as a compliment for yourself.” Bilbo mused. “As I dress and wear the clothing of Elves, not Hobbits.”

“Nonsense, mellon.” Elros rubbed Bilbo’s hand soothingly. “Galion is possibly too jovial, but he is always honest. Any would be an absolute fool to refuse you.”

 

Bilbo thought of what Elros told him a few nights later, when he laid in bed on his own in a vain attempt to sleep. He felt too restless, unable to stop the memories of past conversations from crowding his head. He thought of things he’d spoken to Thorin about, his conversations with Legolas and Thranduil, and what Galion and Elros had told him. 

It was their words in particular stuck with him.

He wasn’t afraid per say, nor was it a matter of being refused that caused him much anxiousness. Even though he thought he would be upset if that were to happen, he just didn’t want to embarrass himself, or Thorin for that matter. He hoped he hadn’t misread the situation so grievously, and wished he had more confidence in what Thorin wanted from him.

Rather, his worry was more of a question regarding how a relationship would carry out between them. Bilbo was entirely too reluctant to leave the Greenwood permanently, and he doubted Thorin would possibly be able to leave Erebor, not to mention the rivalry between the two races. He cringed even when just the thought of it passed through his mind, and he was neither Elf nor Dwarf! The stubbornness of the two great kingdoms really was quite troublesome. His allegiances to the Elves would never waver, but his curiosity towards the Dwarves was seemingly endless.

Either way, he had no excuse to return to Erebor to see Thorin or any Dwarf again. It was reluctantly he thought such things, but the Greenwood was his home and as such there was not much he could do about his desire to travel. He couldn’t leave his duties here, and didn’t want to displease his King. There would be no one to care for the ponies like he did, lest fulfil his role when it came to Hobbit activities. He’d miss his friends far too much to ever leave for long.

Sighing to himself quietly, he rolled over in bed and pressed his face against his soft pillow, trying to find sleep once more. It was a difficult accomplishment when his thoughts revolved so tumultuously in his head, but achievable nonetheless. 

He didn’t dream of anything.

 

“Bilbo.”

The Hobbit paused in his meal and glanced up as Legolas entered the dining hall. Bilbo was eating his lunch late – he’d been busy with a pony that had gotten a splinter, and as such had missed the communal gathering. He wasn’t too phased, instead finding the silence at the tables rather soothing to his teeming head, but Legolas’s interruption was surprising. 

“Hello, my Prince.” Bilbo greeted. “Is there something I may help you with?”

“My father has requested your presence.” Legolas said.

Bilbo blinked, but nodded. He accepted Legolas’s helping hand and stood, leaving his mostly empty late where it was. “Do you know what he wishes to see me for?”

Legolas shook his head. A pretty strand of silky blonde hair fell out of place, but it was quickly righted. “All I know is that he is in the middle of a meeting at the moment… I do not know with who, but it is likely for trade, or something of a similar nature.”

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully. He supposed that made sense – Legolas wasn’t required to sit in on meetings such as those if Thranduil was present, unless his father requested it, which Thranduil often, but not always, did. It was no surprise that Legolas was sent to search for him, considering the Prince knew Bilbo the best out of the King’s guard, and Legolas had not been required for the meeting today.

“Do you know anything of this?”

Bilbo shook his head. “No, I was hoping you might.”

Legolas watched him carefully, but didn’t questioned him further. He appeared curious, too, but his curiosity had a glinting edge of knowledge that Bilbo’s did not. 

“Do I look alright?” Bilbo asked as they approached the meeting hall. “I was rolling around with the ponies earlier…”

“Hold still.” 

Legolas gentle straightened Bilbo’s circlet, and smoothed down the hem of Bilbo’s soft, Elven tunic. It’d been made specifically for Hobbit proportions, and was wonderfully gentle to wear. Bilbo greatly admired the ability of Elves to creating cloths of this quality.

“Your hair is erratic.” Legolas offered a small smile. “But I do not believe there is much to be done about that.”

Bilbo huffed, but he couldn’t help smiling at the Elf. “We can’t all have perfectly straight hair like yours, my Prince.”

“Your curls are perfectly acceptable.”

Bilbo laughed. “Galion is rubbing off on you.”

Legolas looked rather affronted by that, but didn’t have the opportunity to say anything else as the doors to the meeting hall were held open by a pair of guards dressed in Elvish armour. Bilbo entered, following behind Legolas as his eyes were instantly drawn to his king, whom was sitting tall and regal at the head of the table with his crown perched splendidly atop his head.

But then Bilbo noticed their guests – Dwarves, it seemed, had come to visit the Greenwood. And there, seated beside the political figureheads, was one Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo hoped his face wasn’t too noticeably expressional, but he could feel it breaking into a thrilled grin at the sight of the Dwarf sitting there calmly. 

Legolas brushed a reminding hand over the small of his back, and while Bilbo knew not to act out of turn, he was undeniably excited. Somehow, he managed to restrain himself enough to comfortably take his seat and reign in his grin, but he was unable to stop himself from glancing at Thorin out from under his eyelashes. Matters were only made worst by the fact that Bilbo could see that Thorin had a hardly noticeable smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

The meeting resumed as if he and Legolas had never intervened, for which Bilbo was glad. It gave him a moment to quell his racing heart, to press his sweating palms to the chair beneath his thighs. He was very nervous, but it was exciting. He could hardly get himself to sit still.

The meeting, like Legolas had assumed, was primarily held in regards to economic agreements between the two races. Bilbo’s arrival allowed him to catch the tail end of negotiations about provisions – food, and tradable wears like cloths and barrels and things of the like that would pass through both Esgaroth and Dale to Erebor and back. It wasn’t too clear to him, and for a moment he was puzzled as to why he was needed. There was surely nothing he could do to help profit in those sections, for this was hardly even his kingdom.

For a moment he wondered if he’d have to endure the entire meeting, which he knew could carry on for hours and hours and hours, when the conversation was directed to something a little more catered to his interests. 

“This is Bilbo Baggins.” Thranduil said, hand elegantly cutting through the air to gesture at the seated Hobbit. “He is my appointed pony trainer, and is in charge of caring for their needs while they remain stationed in the Greenwood. His ponies are the ones that recently made the journey to Erebor.”

Eyes shifted across the table to him, and he hurriedly stood to bow in greeting, face flushed with embarrassment. He guessed this is why he was needed. 

The Dwarven advisor – the one who was leading this conference on behalf of the Dwarven King – nodded to Bilbo. “It’s nice to meet you, Master Baggins. We were quite impressed by your ponies during their visit. The stable hands send you many regards.”

Bilbo tried to smile, his hands fluttering nervously. “Thank you.” He said politely as he took his seat again. Under the table, Legolas pat his knee consolingly, as if he knew how lost Bilbo was feeling. It quite possibly showed on his face.

“I can’t offer you them as trade.” Thranduil stated. “The string here is small, and there are no wild herds. I can, however, offer obedience training.”

Bilbo glanced up at that. Training? He had been the one to teach the majority of the ponies they currently had…

“How would it be done?”

Thranduil glanced at Bilbo, meeting his gaze. He looked expectant. 

“Ah, right…” Bilbo quickly stood again, pressing his palms to the edge of the table. “I train the ponies using a series of voice commands, visual commands and sounds like clicks and whistles.”

“Why so many methods?”

“Some ponies respond to visual commands better than vocal ones.” Bilbo explained. “And vice versa. Having them know a variety of different communication techniques allows for a greater range of movement and a certain level of obedience that cannot be afforded with a single set of commands. For example, should one’s voice fail they are still able to give visual commands. Essentially, it’s an added layer of security.”

“And how do you get them to cooperate?

Bilbo smiled timorously. “Food rewards.” He admitted sheepishly. “Works like a charm every time.”

Thankfully, the Dwarves seemed amused by his answers. He hoped that was a good thing, because he didn’t want the Dwarves to think he was bribing the ponies or forcing them into doing anything they were uncomfortable with. They were, after all, living beings that deserved a certain amount of respect and admiration. 

“How many can you train at once?”

Bilbo thought for a moment. “I can handle the string we have here, but those ponies are all trained. If I were to train others from scratch, I’d say about three, but I’d have three of my ponies in the mix as well. On my own, in a contained field, I can monitor and train the six of them together.”

“Why have three of your own as well?”

“I’ve found that the ponies respond well to others.” Bilbo said. “As a whole, they tend to copy each other’s actions – if one is being rewarded for following a command, then the others are quick to mimic its behaviour in search of a reward too. Three trained ponies and three untrained ponies is an equal mix, and a group of that size is what I can handle on my own.” 

“Would you be able to train other ponies, those that are not from your own string?” A Dwarf asked him. “Ponies from Erebor are different to those of the Woodland realm.”

“Understandably.” Bilbo agreed. “But I shan’t know until I try, and I would like to try if at all possible. If anything, it will allow me a further understanding of the creatures, which is always a bonus. From what I could see, the behaviour of the ponies from Erebor was similar enough to those from the Greenwood that I think something amenable could be arranged. They seemed to like treats just as well.”

The Dwarf nodded, and Bilbo took the que to take his seat again. When the attention was turned back to Thranduil, he couldn’t help but sag a little, letting out a deep breath as he pressed his hand over his heart. He could feel the organ racing beneath his skin with nervousness. Legolas’s hand was back patting his knee comfortingly – Bilbo knew the Elf could probably hear his erratic heart, but it was nothing new. He’d long since gotten over the exceedingly sharp senses of the Elves, and their uncanny ability to decipher the thoughts and emotions of others without a single word needing to be said. 

Bilbo took a deep breath, and pressed his hand to his heart a little gentler. He felt an odd mixture of relief and exhilaration, and he caught himself smiling a little. When he glanced back up from his knees, he found that Thorin was watching him, and his heart set off all over again.

 

Bilbo wasn’t particularly required to sit in on the rest of the meeting – it involved arrangements to bring over three ponies for a trial run, and what the Dwarves would offer in return (mostly fabrics and the wool shorn from their sheep). He didn’t think it was vital for him to hear such things, because his job was to train ponies and follow orders, not negotiate the terms of an agreement. 

Alas it would have been rude to leave unexpectedly, so he remained seated and politely listened to what was being discussed. It gave him the time to quietly observe the Dwarves without them noticing. He found himself quite interested in their clothing, and especially their glittering jewellery. They were much different to Hobbits and Elves, and even their facial hair had him interested. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. It amazed him how they were able to style their beards, with intricate braids and shapes and beads expertly placed in stylish designs. Bilbo had heard that even their females grew facial hair! Wasn’t that just so fascinating?

When the meeting was over, Bilbo scrambled to stand and bow in time with the other Elves, excluding Thranduil and Legolas. Similarly, the Dwarves not of royal significance did the same, and then they filed out of the room through doors on either side of the hall.

“How did I do?” Bilbo asked Legolas as soon as they were out of the doors. “I was so nervous! I can’t believe the Dwarves liked my ponies.”

Legolas watched him, looking somewhat amused. “You did fine, mellon.” He stated. “I think you convinced them.”

Bilbo smiled up at him, relieved. Any time he did something that pleased his Elvish friends always left him feeling enlightened. He thought he might have been burdened by feelings of debt to them, despite their refusal to receive payment for their actions, so he might have been trying to make up for that. Galion had told him once that he was a natural pleaser – that it was in his nature to ensure those around him were happy. Back then, Bilbo hadn’t really understood the concept of happiness, but he thought he might have known what it was now. 

Legolas’s eyes drifted away from his face, drawing Bilbo’s attention behind him. He saw the Dwarves approaching them, Thorin included, and felt his face heat up.

“What do I say?” Bilbo whispered at Legolas, eyes wide. 

“Whatever you wish to say.” Legolas answered.

Bilbo huffed at him, and watched Legolas depart with narrowed eyes. That Elf acted like he was stern and mature, but his playful streak could be awfully prominent at times, whether he liked to believe it or not.

“Mr Baggins.”

Bilbo startled, and turned around to smile bashfully at the Dwarf. “Good afternoon, Prince Oakenshield.” 

Thorin held out his hand, and Bilbo quickly moved to shake it. “So this is your Greenwood.” Thorin remarks, glancing around at the great columns and winding pathways that made up the cave systems of the realm. “It is much more… underground than I had expected it to be.”

Bilbo laughed. “Yes, I suppose much of it is.” He agreed. Thranduil’s Halls were built beneath the ground, supported by a series of columns and free-standing walkways that intersected the surface above it. Thranduil’s own throne was enterable from the front gates, but the quarters where Elves slept and resided, including the Royals, were hidden far back in the caves so that they could be protected by distance. Much of the Greenwood was punctuated by expansive skylights that filtered in wedges of bright sunlight. During night, hanging lanterns glowed a stunning yellow to bask the halls in golden hues. 

He didn’t think it felt so underground, so long as one remained where the skylights reached. Deeper down in the caverns, in the storage rooms, cellars and detention cells, the light didn’t reach and it was noticeably a bit colder. He supposed that area was very cave-like.

“But much of our Kingdom is above ground, too.” Bilbo smiled thoughtfully. “The pony stables, for example, and their exercise fields.”

Thorin chuckled. “You and your ponies.” He said. It was almost teasing, which was a strange emotion to see on the Dwarf’s usually stern face. 

Bilbo just grinned at him.

“Would you care to show me around, if you have the time?” Thorin asked, lifting a brow. “I’m curious about your home.”

“I suppose I could return the favour.” Bilbo laughed. “There is a lot to show off! I hope you are prepared for quite the show.”

Thorin gave him quite an amused look. “Lead the way then, Mr Baggins.”


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo shows Thorin around his home.

The Greenwood was expansive, even more so to a small Hobbit, and even perhaps to a Dwarf. It was filled with suspended walkways and winding corridors and staircase after staircase. Bilbo made sure to draw attention to the details, the things he felt most connected to. He showed Thorin around the main areas of the Greenwood, taking care to respect the privacy of Elves, and tried not to be too enthusiastic and he described everything to Thorin. 

As expected, he also eventually took Thorin up to the pony stables. The number of ponies he was charged with caring for always varied, mostly because they were being used or moved back and forth between Elven citadels, but he generally had five to eight in his stables. There was always room for more, of course, but the string they had now was stable, and there was no pressing need to request for more from Rivendell.

“I can see why you had trouble finding sleep in Erebor.” Thorin remarked as they entered the stables where the ponies anxiously waited to be greeted. “It’s quite different here.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Quite.” He agreed with a nod. “It’s very different at night, too, though I suppose you’ll come to understand what I mean eventually. How long are you staying in the Greenwood?”

“Two weeks.” Thorin answered, lifting a hand to stroke Maisy’s nose as they wandered past her pen. “The finer details will be finalised tomorrow morning, and then a raven will be sent back to Erebor to have the ponies sent over. I’ll be placed in charge of monitoring them, no doubt. To foster relations.”

Bilbo smiled bashfully. That was becoming a phrase Thorin used frequently, it seemed. He certainly thought it wasn’t a coincidence that Thorin was staying here, of all the people that the Dwarves could have sent. “And what do you think of the agreement?” He asked.

“I think it will be a beneficial agreement for all those involved.” Thorin said in a rather diplomatic tone. “I’ve witnessed you controlling ponies first hand, and I must say I’m quite impressed. I think you’ll do wonderfully.”

“I hope so.” Bilbo replied, cheeks flushed. “It would certainly be nice to stop all the arguing between Elves and Dwarves… Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to move between the two kingdoms freely, too? There is so much greatness that could be found, and just imagine all the food!”

Thorin smiled faintly. “You seem very hopeful.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Someone has to be! I’ve got big dreams.” He said as he reached across the low pen wall to stroke Myrtle’s nose. “If these ponies can do it, them who am I to deny them? I think it will be a marvellous experience, regardless. In either case, I do rather enjoy being with ponies.”

“I can tell.” Thorin said. “They’re very well taken care of. Do you do it all yourself?”

“I have been, in recent years.” Bilbo said. “The string here has changed frequently, with an agreement recently put in place between the Greenwood and Rivendell. The ponies travel there and back to gain experience outside of the realm here, and many are used in Rivendell. I’ve had many opportunities with a large variety of ponies, so when King Thranduil placed me in charge of them I took on the role as their caregiver permanently. We Hobbits here tend to do that, when not in the fields.”

“Oh?”

“Why, my friend Hamfast cares for the chickens.” Bilbo nodded. “There are a lot more chickens than ponies, so Bell helps him… But we mostly work in the gardens.”

“And the Elves?”

“They help, of course, but I don’t mind doing it on my own. Galion and Elros help me quite a bit, in their spare time.”

“They are your friends?”

Bilbo nodded. “Elros was charged as my caregiver when I was brought here, and Galion was a sort of add on.” He chuckled. “Those two have been close for more years than I can comprehend. They’ve long since gotten over our age differences, though it took them some time for them to learn to treat me as a friend and not a child. I can’t fault them…” He paused in his motions for a moment, and smiled fondly. “They may be mischievous, but I care for them a lot. I owe the both of them all I can give.”

Thorin stared at the Hobbit warmly. “And the Prince? What is your relation to him?”

“Prince Legolas is my friend.” Bilbo said, turning back to Myrtle cheerfully. “The Elves here grew quite attached to the younger Hobbits that first arrived, myself included. Children among their race are hide to come by, after all. The Prince was no exception, it seemed.”

“You seem quite close with the royal family.” Thorin remarked, not unkindly. “I was surprised when Thranduil called for you.”

“I was as well.” Bilbo chuckled. “I don’t often get called in on such important meetings, but I think it was a good opportunity! I hope I made a good impression on your kin.”

“You made a wonderful impression. They wouldn’t have agreed to the arrangement with the ponies if you hadn’t.” Thorin assured him. He glanced around at the stables admiringly. “So you spend most of your time out here, then?”

Bilbo nodded, and stepped away from Myrtle’s pen. He led Thorin through the stables, and out of the wide archway that led to the pony field. “I do spend quite a lot of time here, yes. This is the pony field, where I’ll train the ponies from Erebor. There is a fence that separates the field from the forest,” he pointed out the structure he was speaking of with a hand, “but the ponies generally don’t wander where the roots greatly protrude.”

Thorin hummed, his eyes assessing the field critically. “This is very different to what we have at Erebor.” He said. “The terrain is different.”

“I thought as much.” Bilbo agreed. “But the ponies should adjust fine.” He took Thorin back through the stables, and inside towards the dining halls. “Do you know where you and your kin will be staying while here?”

Thorin shook his head.

“Hold on a moment, I’ll ask.” Bilbo excused himself, and quietly spoke with a guard who walked past. The Dwarves were being given the guest wing for the duration of their stay – it wasn’t as nice as some of the other places they could have been stationed, but it was certainly better than the holding cells. Bilbo supposed not all animosities could be overwritten so soon.

They made their way towards the guest wing together, once Bilbo knew where to take him. He was sure Thorin would remember the way to the dining hall, though his track record for getting lost was more than Bilbo expected of a Prince. In either case, Bilbo was quite excited to have Thorin here in his home, and he was sure they could be able to get to know one another better.

“Bilbo!” A familiar voice called. _“I see you’ve already become familiar with your Dwarf once more!”_

Bilbo spluttered as Galion glided into view with Elros in tow. Thorin glanced over at the two Elves, looking vaguely curious at Bilbo’s sudden reaction to them.

 _“Don’t listen to him, mellon.”_ Elros consoled, smiling gently. His eyes slid down to Thorin, and he bowed slightly, just enough to be considered polite. The action was more than Galion did. “It is nice to meet you, Prince Oakenshield. I do hope our Hobbit has given you an apt tour…”

Thorin nodded in greeting. “He has.” He said, glancing at Bilbo out of the corner of his eyes.

“Ah- right.” Bilbo coughed. “Prince Oakenshield, this is Galion, and Elros.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Thorin said respectfully.

Galion just gave him a rather impish look. To anyone who was not used to the way Elves expressed emotion, it would probably not have been noticed. For Bilbo, however, he knew that look all too well. 

_“Don’t get too infatuated just yet, my friend.”_ Galion said. _“Your cheeks are already quite flushed!”_

 _“They are not!”_ Bilbo retorted, scowling. _“And he’s not my Dwarf.”_

_“Not yet, that is.”_

Bilbo flushed horribly, and looked to Elros wide-eyed for assistance. He’d always found Elros to be the more reasonable of the two-

“Sorry, my dear, but he has a point.”

 _“That smile is going to get you nowhere.”_ Bilbo huffed up at the tall Elves, trying to ignore the burning in his ears. Elros just looked at him, a tad sheepish. It was ridiculous how calm and lofty he could hold himself, even when he went along with Galion’s bantering whims. He was much harder to stay angry at too, and his sullen looks always led Bilbo to prematurely forgive Galion. Bilbo would never be able to keep as composed as Elros, but he reasoned that he hadn’t had countless centuries to learn how to. 

_“Don’t forget dinner tonight.”_ Elros reminded him as he shuffled Galion away. _“You have to organise the festival with Hamfast and the other Hobbits.”_

 _“Ah, that’s right!”_ Bilbo exclaimed. _“I do! I almost forgot. Thank you for reminding me, Elros.”_

Elros just smiled at him loftily as he herded Galion out of sight. What truly mystifying Elves they were, Bilbo thought. They were wise and wicked, yet, but trustworthy on a deeply connected level that Bilbo sometimes could not comprehend. Above all else, they endearingly looked out for him, did they not? They really were quite enigmatic, when they wished to be. 

“Those were your friends?”

Bilbo jumped at the question, as though he had forgotten Thorin was there entirely. “Ah, yes, those were my friends.” He confessed, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. 

“They made you blush.” Thorin remarked, eyebrows lifting. “What did they say?”

“T-they jest, is all.” Bilbo stammered, ducking his head. “Come along then, I must return you to your kin before nightfall!”

Thorin chuckled, but made no further comments as he followed after Bilbo. “Thank you for showing me your home.” He offered peacefully, peering at Bilbo’s face with soft blue eyes.

Bilbo smiled kindly without really meaning to, and offered his hand to Thorin. “Shall we be going, Prince Oakenshield?”

“Just Thorin is fine.” The Dwarf sighed, even as he shoved his hand in Bilbo’s smaller grip. 

 

“Are the tomatoes ready?” Bilbo asked as he flipped through pages of bookkeeping, his brows furrowed in concentration. It was always a big affair when Hobbits celebrated the solstices – in particular, they celebrated Yavanna’s creation of all living things, as well as the end of the harvest, just before new crops could be planted and cultivated. It was only a Hobbit tradition, and Elves did not partake, but they were always present as guests and were never turned away. 

Bilbo, as the son of the last Thain of the Shire, was volunteered to organise the festival every year. While he wasn’t quite royalty – or whatever title being the Thain had afforded – he was capable of smoothly gathering the Hobbits living in the Greenwood efficiently enough, and the festivals always turned out enjoyable with him in charge. It was better for him to do it than for another Hobbit to have to. Why fix something that was not broken?

“Mostly, yes.” Hamfast answered, handing Bilbo a piece of paper with all the relevant information written down neatly. “Bell has got all the may pole ribbons ready, too.”

Bilbo nodded, pleased. “That’s good, she always gets things done nice and early. Has Ponto raised the poles, yet? They should be in place by now, so that Bell and Poppy can set the ribbons in place to their liking…”

“I believe he’s doing that today.” Hamfast said with a nod. 

“Alright.” Bilbo answered. “Make sure it’s done by lunch, if you will. How have the preparations in the kitchen fared?”

“Averagely.” Hamfast frowned a little. “The first loaves of bread burned on accident, but Robin and the others are making twice as much today to compensate. The raisin bread had just gone in the ovens last time I checked, so it should be done by tonight.”

Bilbo nodded. “Good, good. Just in time for the festival, then. And the rest of the food? The vegetable stews and cakes and all the meat products?”

“Coming along well, I believe.” Hamfast reported. “The mince pies were well under way last I checked. They smelled good.”

Bilbo chuckled. “You and your mince pies.” He teased.

“Now, I must ask,” Hamfast started after a small laugh, “but should we be prepared to feed Dwarves, as well? I hear they’re staying in the Greenwood for a while, including the duration of the festival.”

Blinking owlishly, Bilbo tried to come up with a suitable answer. For a moment, it left him dumfounded. He hadn’t even thought about the Dwarves attending. “Well, I suppose I should ask them! I didn’t even think of that, to be perfectly honest with you.” 

Hamfast smiled knowingly. “Well, if you get the chance, then do so.” He said cheerfully. “I doubt any of ours would mind, especially not if you tell them so, Mr Baggins.”

Bilbo made an inquisitive noise, and tilted his head to the side. “Not if I tell them so?” He repeated, hoping for an expanded answer.

But his Hobbit friend just smiled again, and stood. “Fetch me if there’s anything else that needs checking in on, Mr Baggins, and don’t forgot to ask your Dwarf!”

“He’s not my…!” Bilbo began, but at Hamfast’s last teasing smirk he merely huffed. “He’s not my Dwarf.” Bilbo muttered to himself, gathering up all the papers in front of him into neat, organised stacks. “Why does everyone seem to think that he’s my Dwarf?”

It was embarrassing, to say the least. Bilbo supposed it might have been obvious that he rather enjoyed Thorin’s company, and Thorin was quite tall for a Dwarf… Quite handsome, too. It was easy to admit he was attractive, though Bilbo could never say such a thing to Galion. Bilbo knew that he was adventurous, more so than the other Hobbits, so was it really such a shock that he took to the Dwarves so easily? Well, just Thorin, it seemed. He hadn’t really met any other Dwarves, let alone speak to them. Not that he didn’t want to, mind, but he simply hadn’t had the chance.

Maybe if they attended the festival, he could. He would like to see them there, if they should so choose. It would be a good opportunity to expand their knowledge of Hobbits, would it not? Bilbo would enjoy showing off not only his ponies, but his culture. There was much to enjoy about being a Hobbit, and their festivals were the best time to prove that. Of course, there would also be food, and Dwarves loved food almost as much as Hobbits.

Bilbo smiled to himself, and stood from his chair. This would be a good opportunity, he thought. Festivals were always times of new beginnings. He might as well make the most of it.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new ponies arrive, along with a new group of Dwarves.

The Dwarven ponies arrived the next afternoon safe and sound. It’d been a day since Bilbo had seen Thorin, even just in passing – the day after the Dwarves arrived had been filled with time-pressed festival preparations, and the morning of the next had been spent outfitting the stable stalls in preparation for the arrival of the new ponies.

No one came to get Bilbo when the ponies arrived at the gate, but he heard the piercing sound of the horn the guards blew to signify new arrivals approaching Thranduil’s Halls. By then, Bilbo had the stalls almost completely equipped – hay and fresh water and riding equipment had all been set up in order for the ponies to live comfortably, much like what had would have been done for any ponies from Rivendell or the other Elven citadels. Bilbo was quite excited, if he were being honest. He did rather love spending time with ponies, even those that were not his own.

At the gate, the ponies were being looked over by Elves. Bilbo wandered up and took a place next to Tauriel, who was on guard duty at the time and had presumably escorted the Dwarves through the Greenwood.

“How are they?” He asked her, glancing up at the Elf curiously.

Tauriel hummed quietly. “Unruly, by our standards.” She replied. Bilbo wasn’t sure whether she was talking about the ponies, or about the Dwarves. “Those animals are certainly not like yours.”

Bilbo looked over at them. The ponies were fairly average in size, though perhaps a little bulkier than ponies from the Greenwood, with manes that were travel weary and coats that looked sturdy and coarse rather than fine and silky. Mountain ponies, he thought, like he’d expected. They looked much like the ones he’d glimpsed at while staying in Erebor. It was a challenge he thought he’d surely be able to overcome.

 

“So this is your pony trainer.” A Dwarf stated as he approached them. He was tall, even more so than Thorin, and looked a lot more… grouchy. “Looks more like a grocer if you ask me.”

Bilbo just smiled pleasantly, despite the way Tauriel bristled beside him. “Bilbo Baggins,” he said, holding out a hand, “at your service.”

“Dwalin.” The Dwarf answered. His voice was gruff, and his tone was distasteful; he was clearly confident in himself. He didn’t shake Bilbo’s hand, so after a moment Bilbo dropped it. “You’ll be training the ponies, then? Are you sure you can handle it?”

He had a strange accent, Bilbo thought, but not unlike the ones the other Dwarves had. This Dwarf just seemed to be a lot more irritable than the others, as though the mere sight of the Greenwood had him feeling peevish. Such a stubborn race, the Dwarves were. “I’m sure.” Bilbo answered. “But it’s well within my capabilities, Mr Dwalin.”

The big Dwarf just observed him guardedly, and didn’t say anything else.

Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh. “Shall we take the ponies to the stables, then? I’ve got their stalls all ready to go.”

The Dwarf grunted at him, rather uncouthly if Bilbo were to be frank, and shouted something in heavy Khuzdul over his shoulder. The Dwarves standing with the ponies brought the animals forward by their reigns, and after letting out an approving sound Bilbo turned and began to take them through to the paths that lead to the stables. It wasn’t through Thranduil’s Halls – no sense in dragging the ponies underground, after all – but rather there was a specific path through the trees marked by beautiful columns that he took.

 _“You’re accompanying me?”_ Bilbo asked, glancing up at Tauriel as she took measured steps beside him. 

_“I am.”_ Tauriel answered. _“My King was… Reluctant to leave you in the presence of Dwarves. Who knows what they’re thinking? Could be dangerous.”_

Bilbo chuckled. _“I doubt I even warrant a fight! I must look so weak to them, they probably think they’d waste more energy attacking me than not.”_

Tauriel glanced him over purposefully, and didn’t answer. If Bilbo had not known her so well, he wouldn’t have noticed the small curve touching her lips. To him, she was clearly amused. Bilbo huffed at her, but he recognised she was being playful. Elves were like that – humorous in the ways of elusive barbs and subtly raised eyebrows rather than large gestures and loudly spoken words. Unless that Elf happened to be Galion, of course, who hardly ever seemed to hold back like his kin did.

“Well, at least I have someone to talk to.” Bilbo sighed to himself. “I don’t think these Dwarves like me very much.”

Tauriel hummed. “You’re an enigma.”

_“No, I am a short, lesser Elf to them.” _He snorted. _“They must think me to be childish and young, too little to care for their ponies and too soft to handle anything more.”___

___“Prove them wrong, if it bothers you so.”_ Tauriel told him. _“I wouldn’t mind seeing them put in their places.”__ _

___“Oh, the stubbornness of Dwarves and Elves.”_ He sighed again, as if put out, and closed his eyes for a moment. _“I suppose if it pleases the Lady Tauriel, I shall do what I must!”__ _

__A barely-there smile touched her lips. She chose not to reply after that, and instead surveyed the familiar landscape as Bilbo led them all to the pony stables. His own animals were out in the field, and Bilbo wanted to lead the Dwarven ponies there, but not before taking them through the stable. It was both to familiarise them with the area and to drop off any unnecessary weight they carried, like saddles and supply packs._ _

__“This way, then.” He called back to the Dwarves, sweeping an arm towards the stables. “We’ll go through the stables and out into the fields though here.”_ _

__The Dwarves followed with minimal complaints. Bilbo rolled his eyes – he could all but see their disdain for the current situation – but made no comment and instead pushed open the back doors to the stables. Inside was empty, as he had expected._ _

__“These three stables will be for your ponies.” Bilbo said, gesturing to the last three stalls in the stables on the left side. “They’ll be together, but across from my ponies. I hope they are acceptable.”_ _

__The Dwarves cast scrutinising gazes over the stalls to assess them, but Bilbo knew they had been tailored to perfection. He’d done much of it himself, after all. The hay was evenly spread across the floor, not a strand out of place, and the water was cool and effortlessly clear. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the stalls, and not a single thing out of place. There would be no injuries or discomfort in this stable._ _

__Bilbo waited until the ponies had been freed from their saddles before wandering out into the pony field. He could see his ponies grazing in the shade at the far fence, and watched with a faint smile for a moment. They enjoyed being out in the sunshine like this, and he liked to see them so relaxed._ _

__“Call them, _mellon.”_ Tauriel said, glancing down at him._ _

__Bilbo nodded in agreement, and let out a strong whistle that echoed across the field. It was high, and long – it effectively drew the attention of the ponies, and within moments they were trotting over to nudge Bilbo’s outstretched hands with their noses, curious but obedient._ _

__“Your control over them is outstanding.”_ _

__Bilbo jumped at the voice, and flushed deeply at Thorin’s praise. He hadn’t even noticed Thorin arriving, but yet there he was standing amongst his kin, watching Bilbo with interested and keen eyes. “A-ah, thank you very much, Prince Oakenshield.”_ _

__“Have my kin introduced themselves to you yet?” Thorin asked politely, eyeing the other Dwarves pointedly as if he already knew the answer. After a moment, he held out his hand. “This is Dwalin, his elder brother Balin, who is our advisor, and Gloin, who will oversee our agreements.”_ _

__Bilbo bowed respectfully, but made no move to ask Tauriel to introduce herself in return. “It’s nice to meet you.” He said._ _

__Thorin turned to his companions and said something to them quickly and efficiently in Khuzdul. Bilbo didn’t understand a single word, not until he heard his name thrown into the mix. The Dwarves look doubtful after Thorin had finished having his words with them, but Bilbo was used to being doubted. He was rather unassuming, he knew, but he’d hopefully in time prove them wrong, like he’d always done with people that underestimated him._ _

__Myrtle nudged her nose against Bilbo’s shoulder, vying for his attention. He compliantly ran a hand along her snout. “For now,” he told the Dwarves, “I just want the ponies to become accustomed to this area, and to the stables. I’ll leave the gates open tonight so they can roam into the field freely.”_ _

__“Will they be safe here?” Thorin asked._ _

__Beside him, Tauriel bristled again, offended by the notion. “They will be.” Bilbo answered, before his friend could say a word to defend him. “Rest assured, the fences are strong and the stable has been cleared of anything they could possibly hurt themselves on. These ponies,” he gestured to the animals clustering around him, are friendly and completely tame, and there is no possibility of any wild animal coming close to the field. They’ll be safe.”_ _

__Thorin nodded, looking pleased. His kin made no protest after Bilbo was finished talking._ _

__“Tomorrow, after breakfast, I would ask you to return here.” Bilbo said. “Whomever will be overseeing the training, that is.”_ _

__Thorin nodded once more. “Then it shall begin tomorrow?”_ _

__“Yes, weather permitting.” Bilbo told him. “For now I just want them to rest and settle.”_ _

__

__After another short meeting with Hamfast to be updated on the progress of the festival, Bilbo found himself heading down to the various dining halls for dinner. He could smell the food as he approached, thick and heavy in the air. He supposed that more food had been cooked than usual, to compensate for the Dwarves and their dietary preferences._ _

__He was a little late due to the meeting, though he wasn’t fussed. He knew there would still be food for him, put aside by someone who had noticed his absence. A few Elves still lingered in small groups around the tables, though they mostly sipped on wine rather than ate. After Bilbo had gotten food for himself, he made his way towards one of the smaller tables, where a shaft of moonlight from the ceiling fell across its surface._ _

__He was halfway through his meal when a voice interrupted him._ _

__“May I join you?”_ _

__Bilbo glanced up, and offered Thorin a flushed smile. “If you wish.”_ _

__Thorin took a seat beside him and glanced down at his meal. “I must admit, I’ve never eaten half of what is on my plate.”_ _

__Bilbo laughed quietly. “They’re just vegetables!” He assured._ _

__“I first wondered, _where’s the meat?”_ Thorin told him. “Your eating habits are very different to mine, I’ve found.”_ _

__“We mostly eat vegetables and grains.” Bilbo said. “Which is not to say Elves don’t eat meat, but they’re reluctant to hunt. Fish and chicken is the most common meat they eat, but Hobbits will eat anything.” He chuckled. “We tend to eat more than the Elves, even though we’re smaller!”_ _

__Thorin smiled faintly. “Care to enlighten me on what it is I’m about to eat?”_ _

__Bilbo was more than happy to do so. Hobbits were rather fond of food, even if they weren’t the ones about to consume it. They liked to cook and farm food almost as much as eating it. Courting gifts between on Hobbit to another often included baked goods, in fact! Thorin seemed amused by his enthusiasm, but Bilbo didn’t mind. Food was certainly a way straight to his heart._ _

__After dinner, Bilbo was reluctant to part ways with Thorin. Thankfully, the Dwarf seemed to feel much the same way, and he followed Bilbo around with nothing more than a quiet smile on his face. Bilbo wasn’t quite sure when, but after a while he gripped Thorin’s fingers in his own, tugging him along carelessly. There was no possible way Bilbo could overpower Thorin, so it didn’t hurt either of them. In fact, Thorin let him do it, though he probably hardly felt Bilbo’s pulls at all._ _

__“This place is much bigger than I thought.” Thorin remarked as they wandered over a large, suspended walkway._ _

__Bilbo smiled. “It doesn’t look too big from the outside, but these tunnels are long and deep. They’re quite beautiful, don’t you think?” He said proudly._ _

__“They are.” Thorin agreed, squeezing Bilbo’s hand when Bilbo grinned brightly at the praise._ _

__“Do you like your living quarters?” Bilbo asked. “You’re in the western guest wings, are you not? I hope they’re not too cold.”_ _

__Thorin nodded in confirmation. “They’re very comfortable, not cold in the slightest.” He said. “Did you have a hand in decorating them?”_ _

__Bilbo flushed. “How did you know?”_ _

__“Seems like they’re fashioned to your tastes.” Thorin replied, raising a brow. “They’re quite lovely. Very homely.”_ _

__Bilbo didn’t think it was possible to turn any redder. “You’re quite the charmer.” He said shyly. He was undeniably happy, and very flattered by Thorin’s attentions. No one had ever paid him quite such honest compliments, and certainly none had ever caught his attention as Thorin’s did. He both fascinated and exhilarated Bilbo like no one ever had before._ _

__Thorin chuckled, but accepted the compliment for what it was. “You’re quite delightful yourself.”_ _

__Bilbo flushed, grinning bashfully once more. He didn’t object when Thorin’s warm hand tugged him a little closer, because he felt content and charmed around Thorin, safe in the knowledge that Thorin was being sincere. He wasn’t quite sure what it was about Thorin that drew him in so, but he certainly wasn’t going to repress whatever it was. He hadn’t felt this light-hearted and childish in such a long time!_ _

__A sudden harsh shout in Khuzdul had Bilbo flinching, his hand tightening around Thorin’s fingers for a moment. Bilbo inched closer to Thorin as he noticed Dwarves from the delegation shooting ferocious stares up at them. It made Bilbo feel like he’d done something really wrong._ _

__Thorin shot something back at them. His fingers tightened around Bilbo’s for a moment, before they dropped away._ _

__“Prince Oakenshield?” Bilbo whispered. He tried to keep the shaky concern from his voice, but even he could hear it present._ _

__The Dwarf glanced down at him briefly, blue eyes wavering. “It’s nothing, Bilbo.”_ _

__It clearly wasn’t nothing, which had Bilbo’s concerned frown deepening. He wished he could understand what the Dwarves were saying, but he was unable to comprehend even a single word of Khuzdul. He’d never felt more clueless._ _

__“Thorin, you can’t go prancing around this place with some _Halfling.”_ A Dwarf reprimanded harshly. He spoke as though Hobbits were less than animals, which made Bilbo stiffen in shock. He hadn’t thought there was any hostility between them considering he got along so well with Thorin, but did the other Dwarves dislike him? What had he done to make them feel so?_ _

__Thorin snapped something back in Khuzdul, but the other Dwarves didn’t seem to care for what he had to say. In fact, they shouted right over the top of him. The harsh sounds of their traditional language ricocheted off the spacious cavern walls. It filled Bilbo with a sense of fright, and made him feel like he was surrounded on all sides. He didn’t like feeling so suffocated._ _

__“You should leave.” A Dwarf growled down at Bilbo. “Stop bothering the Prince with all your worthless tales!”_ _

__The Hobbit flinched again, surprised at the harsh way he was spoken to. No one had ever talked to him like that before – he expected a little scorn, or to be underestimated, but not this. It felt like he was being degraded just for being a Hobbit, which was something he simply had no control over, nor any shame at. What exactly had he done wrong?_ _

__“I- I should go…” He mumbled, clutching his own trembling hands to his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Thorin’s eyes, not even when he felt them watching him imploringly._ _

__“Bilbo-” Thorin started, brow creasing._ _

__“It’s fine.” Bilbo forced a strained smile, but he could tell Thorin didn’t buy it. “Really.”_ _

__“Be gone then, Halfling.” A Dwarf barked._ _

__Bilbo flinched, drawing into himself, frightened. He couldn’t bear to take his eyes off of the ground as he hurried away, heart hammering. He couldn’t understand why those Dwarves were acting so bad-mannered towards him. He tried to think back what he’d said or what he’d done in the presence of any Dwarf delegates, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong._ _

__Did they hate him for no reason? Or because he was a Hobbit?_ _

__He’d never felt so humiliated in all his life._ _


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo really did love ponies.

Elves were remarkably perceptive creatures. It was a widely known and accepted fact. Although many Elves appeared aloof and inattentive at best, they could perceive emotions and individual tendencies so well that it was as though they could aptly read thoughts. 

Bilbo knew the moment he returned to his rooms that Galion, or Elros, or Legolas – whoever it was that happened to be waiting for him to return would easily be able to detect that he was upset. They had always been able to do that. It was uncanny and sometimes a little intrusive of them, but Bilbo understood that it was their way of showing worry and concern. He didn't blame them for it. Unlike Hobbits, those worrisome emotions didn’t come easily for Elves, nor did they come freely. In a sense it was very sweet, and Bilbo had come to reply on such matters of affection from his friends, however sparse. He knew, above all, they would be there for him should he need them. 

Blessedly, it was Galion that Bilbo found seated in his rooms. He feared Legolas would have been too rash at Bilbo’s evident discomfort, and Elros too kind and gentle. The anxiety he was feeling was much better suited to Galion’s personality, he thought. He knew Galion the most intimately as well, because Galion had been the one placed in charge of his health and well-being when he was naught more than a Faunt. Bilbo had many fond memories of his childhood, and most of them featured Galion in some way or another. They’d been together for the longest time, now.

“Do the Dwarves dislike me, Galion?” Bilbo asked as he busied himself with preparing for sleep. He fixed his eyes away from Galion, and tried to keep his voice even. He knew it was futile, but he tried anyway. He didn't want his friend to worry too much over him. 

“I cannot see why they would.” Galion replied, eyeing him carefully before Bilbo moved behind a screen for privacy. “Has something been said to cause you to think so?”

Bilbo shrugged a shoulder limply, though he knew Galion wouldn’t be able to see the gesture from where he was seated on the other side of the wooden dressing screen. “Perhaps.” He murmured listlessly. “The Dwarves… They didn’t seem…”

“What did they say, _mellon?”_ Galion insisted. “The Prince seemed quite fond of you. His companions, as well.”

“Well these ones didn’t.” Bilbo muttered. He took a moment to pull his nightgown on over his head, and then set to removing his jewellery and his circlet. “They said I was bothering him with worthless tales. They kept calling me a Halfling like it was a word that poisoned their mouths. Are Hobbits so bad, Galion? What have we done to them? I can’t understand what I’ve done to anger them so.”

Galion huffed, and slipped behind the screen to gently pull Bilbo’s circlet from his head. It was a caring gesture, one that made Bilbo’s eyes burn. “You mustn’t listen to such invaluable opinions, Bilbo.” He said firmly. “We’ve always known that Dwarves can be cruel and xenophobic. Your race is one that is highly esteemed here, and all that you do for us is very much appreciated. That is all you need to believe.”

Bilbo hummed, but he couldn’t seem to bring his eyes up from the floor. “Have I made a bad impression on them somehow?”

“No, my dear.” Galion soothed, pulling Bilbo’s hair away from his forehead to pin it in place out of his eyes. “Their attitudes are deplorable, is all. They don’t act polite towards anyone, and it is by no fault of your own.”

Bilbo sighed, and gripped the hem of his nightgown tightly. “Does the Prince dislike me, too?” He asked quietly, glancing up.

Galion rubbed his cheek gently, like he used to when Bilbo was just a child. “No, Bilbo.” Galion said. “The Dwarf Prince is very fond of you, it’s plain to see. You mustn’t let yourself be swayed by the cruel words of the ignorant.”

Bilbo nodded obediently. “I've just never been spoken to in that manner.” He said quietly. “I'm unused to such unfounded treatment. I suppose I'll have to grin and bear it.”

A troubled sigh left Galion’s lips. “Much in the same way we Elves bear the scorn of the Dwarves, yes. I'm sorry they've treated you so badly, my dear. For you above all it is entirely unfortunate.” 

Bilbo absently ran his fingers through his hair. It wasn't too tangled, and didn't need to be brushed tonight. He was glad, as it meant he could slip straight into bed. Galion followed him, and took a light seat on the mattress beside him. His slender fingers strayed into Bilbo’s hair where they were able to comfort him. “I hope the Dwarves don't come to dislike me too much.” Bilbo murmured. His voice was muffled by his pillow, and he anxiously pulled his covers higher.

Galion tucked the sheets in absentmindedly. There were some habits from Bilbo’s childhood that Galion seemed unable to kick, it seemed. “I don't believe they have,” he said, “or will, and if they do then they are far more thick-headed than I ever believed them to be.”

Speaking with Galion always seemed to lighten Bilbo’s heart. He smiled to himself, just a small smile, one he kept hidden from Galion. “You always seem so confident in me, though I do not know why.” He said quietly. “But I appreciate it nevertheless.”

Galion wordlessly bent down to press a faint kiss to Bilbo’s forehead. His long hair tickled Bilbo’s cheeks, and the gentle, familiar scent of him surrounded Bilbo. It brought back pleasant memories, and made Bilbo feel deeply at home. “Of course I’m confident in you,” Galion said, “for you’ve never once disappointed me. Get some rest, _mellon._ I shall be here when you wake.”

 

Bilbo was down at the stables early the next morning after skipping second breakfast and sitting through a gentle but time-consuming lecture from Galion. He wanted to see how the ponies from Erebor had coped throughout the night, and when he entered the stables he was pleased to find that all was well. His own ponies seemed used to the presence of the new ones, and it didn’t look like there had been any nervous pacing or kicking throughout the night. He was rather pleased with the results, if he were being honest.

Before anyone else arrived, he began to let the ponies out into the field. His own were released first, after he of course fed them apples as a treat for being good. He talked to them constantly, more to let the new ponies become accustomed to his voice than to comfort his own. When his own string was out roaming the field, he turned to the three ponies from Erebor. He had forgotten to ask for their names, and he doubted they’d respond to Elvish names like the other ponies did, but they must at least know common words. 

The first pony he approached was the largest. Its coat and mane were both dark, and when he peered closer he found that its legs had black socks, so dark they were almost undistinguishable from the brown of the rest of the pony’s fur. It seemed a little skittish, but when offered an apple it calmed completely. “You really like food, huh?” Bilbo chuckled as he quietly unlatched the gate to the pen. When he offered his hand, the pony eagerly followed him, and just like that it was out in the field, too.

The other two ponies were similar in colour – both were light brown, with manes and tails coloured a slightly darker shade. The only noticeable difference was their size, but it was slight. Had Bilbo not been well acquainted with the animals then he doubted he would have seen any difference at all. When he offered them apples, they took them just as trustingly as the first had. Their temperaments were rather sweet, Bilbo thought, if a little nervous. He didn’t know why the Dwarves would think he wouldn’t be able to handle them. 

When all the ponies were out in the field, Legolas arrived. “You’re up early.” The Prince remarked.

“You are as well.” Bilbo answered. “Good morning.”

Legolas nodded politely, and cast his eyes out onto the field. Bilbo could almost see him counting up all the ponies and picking out which ones did not belong to the Greenwood. “My Father wanted me to oversee things today,” he said after a moment, “so I’ll be remaining here for the day.”

Bilbo hummed. “You’ve spoken to Galion this morning, then.”

Legolas made no move to deny it. “He was concerned.” Legolas murmured.

Bilbo sighed. He knew Legolas was perhaps the most defensive out of all the Elves, but he had reason to be, so Bilbo couldn’t fault him. Legolas was a Prince, and the King the Dwarves so readily insulted was his father. This was his kingdom, and his home, and Legolas was proud of it beyond anything else. It only made sense that he’d protect the integrity of his home and his people with all of his being, and somehow that extended to Hobbits like Bilbo, too. Although Bilbo wouldn’t admit it, he appreciated Legolas’s company. It was really important that he impress the Dwarves today, and he wouldn’t be able to do that if he was constantly being degraded by Dwarves that underestimated him. With Legolas around, he felt more confident in himself. He knew Legolas wouldn’t allow anyone to say anything that might upset him.

By the time the Dwarves did arrive, the ponies just about settled in. There were faces among the Dwarves that Bilbo didn’t recognise, but he certainly recognised the Prince, as well as his close companions Dwalin and Balin (though which was which he did not know).

“Good morning, Mr Baggins.” Thorin greeted politely. “Prince Legolas.”

Legolas simply nodded again, silent. Bilbo offered a weak smile. It was all he could manage.

“The animals did well overnight, then?” Balin – Bilbo assumed that was he – asked. “They seem to have settled in quite finely.”

Bilbo nodded. “They were content when I greeted them this morning.” He said. “I think they’re getting along with the Greenwood string just fine.”

The small pleasantries didn’t last for long, however, when a sudden flock of chickens rushed into the field. Bilbo jumped at the loud noises the flighty birds made, and out of nowhere the ponies started to panic.

“Bilbo!” Hamfast shouted as he clambered over the field fence. “The chickens…!”

“Never mind the chickens!” He cried. “The ponies!”

Even the Greenwood ponies were spooked by the sudden commotion. Bilbo wouldn’t be able to train them if they were frightened so early on during their stay! Swiftly, he pressed the tips of his fingers into the corners of his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. Even in their panic his ponies ran towards him, anxious for comfort. He dove out of the way of the ponies as they circled him, whinnying frightfully.

 _“Calm,”_ he shouted over the noise of the flustered chickens, _“you have nothing to fear.”_

Myrtle pressed her snout against Bilbo’s shoulder insistently, and obligingly, Bilbo lifted his hand to pet her neck. The ponies from Erebor were still kicking about, and he was swift to go to them. Hamfast had already began to gather up the chickens, but the ponies were still frantic - even as he approached with his hands up they didn’t seem to settle.

“Oi, that’s too much for a Halfling!” A nameless Dwarf criticised. “He’ll be beaten to a pulp!”

Bilbo ignored it. His concern couldn’t be wasted on Dwarves when the ponies were so startled, it wasn’t fair or kind. It was the largest pony he neared first, but as it reared up he had to take a step back. He heard indignant shouts from the Dwarves again, but he persevered. _“Calm, mellon.”_ He whispered soothingly to the pony. He held his hands up, drawing its attention to him, and when he could reach it he drew its head down. _“Do not be frightened.”_

The pony whinnied once, stamping its hooves, before it quietened. Like falling dominoes the other two ponies trotted over, anxiously inching as close as they could. Bilbo offered them the same kind words, and with his palms outstretched towards them he began to walk backwards. Predictably, the ponies followed, and soon enough they were mingling with the Greenwood string as Hamfast cleared out the stray chickens. 

_“What happened, Bilbo?”_ Legolas asked as he moved closer. He laid a hand on Minty’s back and extended his own soothing gestures. 

Bilbo shook his head. _“I’m not sure-”_

He was interrupted by someone calling his name once more. Bell came rushing towards them, tangled maypole ribbons piled in her arms. She looked incredibly flustered, as though she was close to tears. “I’m so sorry, Bilbo.” She panted. For a moment the ribbons slipped through her grip, and Bilbo jumped to catch them before they could hit the ground. “I’m sorry! I accidentally fell into the chicken coop, and they just went crazy, I’m-”

“Bell, Bell, just calm down.” Bilbo said as he carefully handed her back the ribbons. “No harm done, it’s alright. Are you hurt?”

She seemed to sag with relief at his words, and shook her head. “No, no. I’m fine.”

Bilbo nodded. “That’s all that matters. Hamfast will round up the chickens, and then everything will get back to normal.”

It took a few minutes for Hamfast to direct all the chickens away from the field, but with Bell’s help eventually they were all gone. Bilbo sighed as they left, and pressed a hand to his forehead. He didn’t think the first training session could have started off any worse. “I’m going to take the ponies back into the stables,” Bilbo said to Legolas, “to get them settled again.”

Legolas murmured an agreement, and watched as Bilbo gripped a fistful of Myrtle’s mane gently. She didn’t need much convincing to follow him, and soon enough all the ponies from the Greenwood string were copying her. 

“Shouldn’t we round up our ponies?” Dwalin muttered, voice gruff.

“There’s no need.” Legolas cut in sharply. “Don’t underestimate our Hobbits again.”

Bilbo went red, flustered at Legolas’s behaviour, but it wasn’t entirely unfounded. When he glanced over his shoulder for a moment, he found that quite a few of the Dwarves were watching him with somewhat dumfounded expressions, as if they couldn’t believe he could handle so many ponies on his own. To him, it had become second nature now. If nothing else, the incident with the chickens gave him a chance to get the Erebor ponies to trust him. When they saw the Greenwood ones wandering after him, they eagerly followed suit, and soon enough he had one of the smaller brown ones snuffling at his pockets, looking for a treat for being so good. It made him laugh. He really did love these silly animals.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training continues.

It was quiet in the field while Bilbo worked with the ponies. He was reluctant to work near the watching Dwarves in case the ponies got distracted by them, but he was careful to remain in Legolas’s eyesight. He didn’t want his Prince to worry over him too much, but if he followed Bilbo closely then the Dwarves would start to doubt him and his abilities even more than they already did.

The ponies themselves were remarkably receptive to his training. He found that the ponies from Erebor responded better to visual commands rather than vocal ones, which he thought was convenient. If he were to teach them voice commands then it would be in Elvish, the language animals tended to respond best to, and he doubted the Dwarves would very much appreciate that if he did it.

He started by using Myrtle and Minty as examples. With a basket of apples hidden at his feet he had them run through basic commands – come, go, stop, and other things of the like. While his ponies could follow more complicated commands, the basic ones were the easiest to learn, and the most crucial to remember. When the ponies from Erebor noticed the Greenwood ponies being rewarded for their good behaviour, they quickly followed suit in search of rewards for themselves.

Bilbo had assumed they already knew simple commands. The animals wouldn’t be useful for travelling purposes if they didn’t know simple commands, so he was pleased to find that their training hadn’t been completely neglected. He didn’t know how they’d react to formation commands, but he was sure they would catch on eventually. The Dwarves seemed to overestimate how difficult it would be to train them – with the right rewards and a little patience, he thought they were quite easy to train.

By lunchtime, Bilbo had begun to move onto more serious commands. He’d cross the field and start drawing their attention with whistles – while his ponies responded immediately, the ones from Erebor didn’t. For a little while he was puzzled on how he could possibly draw their attention, but he knew the ponies had started equating his voice with the idea of treats, so he began with that. Apples in hand, he’d begin to walk the ponies around while whistling. After familiarizing them to the noise, he’d move a distance away and whistle again. This time, the ponies would perk their ears at the noise, and even if they only came closer to see if he had apples for them to snack on, it was a start.

 _“Mellon,”_ Legolas called as he wandered over, _“do you not wish to eat?”_

Bilbo shook his head. _“I’m fine,”_ he replied, _“I’ll eat an apple if I get too hungry.”_

Legolas frowned. _“Don’t push yourself too hard.”_ He murmured. Subtly, he cast back a glance at the Dwarves who watched them critically. _“They are already surprised by your achievements. I doubt they have the patience and talent to work with the animals like you do.”_

Bilbo hummed. _“Yes, well… I don’t have much to do today other than this.”_ He said. _“Hamfast and I have another meeting later this afternoon, but other than that I don’t have any other tasks to complete.”_

_“Would you like me to keep you company for the afternoon?”_

_“It’s alright.”_ Bilbo smiled. _“I’ll be fine.”_

Legolas looked doubtful, but Bilbo knew he had other things to attend to, and he didn’t want to keep the Elven Prince away from his duties. He didn’t think the King would be particularly pleased, either, even if his son’s intentions were good. And even though Legolas was giving him despondent looks he still bid Bilbo goodbye. Only when he had gone did Bilbo turn back to the ponies that lingered around him.

“Shall we continue, then?”

 

“Bilbo, do you mind if I join you?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Bilbo was surprised to find Thorin staring at him curiously. “I-if you wish, Prince Oakenshield.” He said. Even though he was a little intimidated by some of his companions, he still found himself comfortable around Thorin. The Prince had never done anything to make Bilbo uncomfortable, and Bilbo still enjoyed his company. 

“How is the training going?” Thorin asked as he a little wandered closer. “The ponies seem to like you quite a bit.”

Bilbo chuckled, and held up an apple for Thorin’s eyes. “They’ve started to equate me with treats.” He said. “They’re learning that if they follow commands, they get rewarded. It’s going quite well!”

A faint smile touched Thorin’s face. “I’m glad to hear it.” He said. “We’d trained them adequately enough, but it’s good to see them learning more specific commands. It takes far too long for us to teach them adequately.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Oh?” Bilbo chuckled again. “They’re rather nice creatures. I was concerned they wouldn’t get along with my string, but they’re doing just marvellously. I don’t want to overwhelm them with too much in one day, but it’s good to go over the basic commands every now and then. This is a good opportunity for the ponies from the Greenwood to practice, too.”

Thorin nodded in agreement. “I think my Father will be pleased with how it’s turning out.” He said. “My kin have been speechless for quite some time now. What a feat you’ve accomplished, and so soon too!”

Bilbo flushed at the praise. “Feat?”

A charming grin came to Thorin’s face. “It’s quite hard to make us Dwarves speechless, you know.” He said. “They’ve watched you tame our ponies with nothing more than apples and they can’t say anything about it. Why, I feel as though they’ve realised they underestimated you.” 

“I can’t say I’m not used to it.” Bilbo told him as Maisy came over looking for attention. Obligingly, Bilbo rubbed her nose. “We Hobbits don’t look like we can do much more than rest in our armchairs and tend to our gardens. I believe your kin mentioned that I look much more like a grocer than a pony trainer, and I cannot say I blame him.” Bilbo said. 

Thorin’s eyes widened. “And who said that?”  
Bilbo laughed, and shook his head. “Do not worry, Prince Oakenshield, I am not offended.”

Thorin hummed. “What happened with the chickens this morning?”

“Ah…” Bilbo smiled self-consciously. “The Hobbits here in the Greenwood are quite busy at the moment, and there was an accident by the chicken coops. They’re not so far away from here, so the chickens accidentally got into the pony field after escaping the coop. I apologise for spooking your ponies.”

Thorin shook his head. “It’s not a problem.” He said. “I was just wondering. You handled the ponies quite well, even though there’s quite a few of them. I was impressed.”

“T-thank you.”

“What had all your kin so preoccupied?” Thorin asked inquisitively. 

“We celebrate the solstices, and there’s one approaching.” Bilbo said, smiling to himself. “There used to be big festivals when we lived in the Shire, and although I don’t remember them, the older Hobbits do. Since there aren’t as many of us, it’s important we all chip in to help organise it. Everyone is busy doing what they can, you see.”

Thorin nodded. “You seem to be in charge.” He remarked.

Bilbo nodded. “Yes, well. That’s a little more complicated – my grandfather was the last Thain of the Shire.”

“Thain?”

“Chief, leader, whatever you wish to call it. The Thain usually organised the festivals, and they were in charge of representing the Shire when it came to foreign matters. Of course, during the Fell Winter that concept fell into discord, and by the time we were moved to the Elven Citadels we had no Thain to speak of.”

“So you were nominated?”

“When I was old enough, yes.” Bilbo nodded. “Now that we live with the Elves in their citadels, much of the Thain’s role has been transferred over to them. We’re under their sovereignty, and as such there is no need for us to have dominant voices in political matters when we live so closely with the Elves.”

“Then why is a Thain needed?” 

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not quite a Thain, per say, but we needed someone to organise our traditional events. When it comes to the Hobbits, I organise our festivals, officiate weddings and ensure our political relationship to the Elves remains intact. It’s not as much as it sounds, truly.” 

“On the contrary, that sounds like quite an important role!” Thorin said. “You continue to impress me every day, Mr Baggins.”

Colour rose in Bilbo’s cheeks again. “You flatter me too much, Prince Oakenshield.” 

“Just Thorin is fine.” Thorin laughed again. “What must I do to get you to call me by my name, Bilbo?”

The Hobbit just grinned. “But you are a Prince!” He said. “It’s only natural for me to call you as such, Prince Oakenshield.” 

Thorin sighed, but it was a teasing sound. “You’re a strange little thing, aren’t you?”

Bilbo laughed. “But that reminds me! You and your kin are welcome to join us at the festival, if you wish.” He said. “There will be food and dancing, and music. Even the Elves join us when we celebrate.”

Thorin smiled. “Thank you for the invitation.” He said. “I’ll speak to my kin about it, but it certainly sounds like something we’d enjoy.” 

“You’re welcome to come.” Bilbo replied, pleased. He was looking forwards to the festival now that it crept closer. For all the trouble they went to before it, never once had the festival turned out disappointing. Just thinking about the maypoles and the delicious apple pies the other Hobbits like to make made him smile. With so many guests this year, it was sure to be a great event. He could hardly wait. 

 

“The maypoles have been lifted.” Hamfast said as he passed Bilbo a thin stack of paperwork. “They’re setting them into place now, so they’ll be finished within the hour.”

“There are four, are there not?”

Hamfast nodded. “Yes. Once the festival is over, they’ll make beautiful marquee poles.”

“I agree.” Bilbo said. Generally they only used two maypoles at the festival so that for the rest of the year they could be used as alter poles for weddings and other important events. In recent years, they’d been using four instead – as the Elves became used to their festivals they often wanted to join in so more maypoles were created to accommodate them, and no Hobbit would ever reject anyone from their merrymaking. 

“I went to check on the kitchens earlier, and it seems like everything is right on track.” Hamfast said. “There will be enough food for the Dwarves if they choose to come.”

Bilbo nodded. “I did extend an invitation this morning.” He said. “I think some might come.” 

Hamfast made a thoughtful noise and straightened the paperwork he had in front of him. “Have you spoken to the Dwarven Prince much?”

Bilbo flushed, and scowled at his friend. “A little.” He muttered. “You’ve been learning too much from Galion, my friend.”

“If you say so.” Hamfast simply laughed at Bilbo’s disgruntled expression. “There is nothing wrong with having affections for him, if you do.” Hamfast said. “I believe the Elves would become used to it after a while, if you were pout at them for long enough. You know they bend to your wills if you plead with them.”

Bilbo sighed. “But why do they do so?” He asked. “They’re less lenient with others our age, I’ve noticed.”

Hamfast hummed. “Well, they favour you,” he said, “in a way. I know they love us all like family, but with all that you do for us, I don’t believe they wish to upset you at all. The Prince enjoys your company quite frequently as well, does he not? They wouldn’t wish to upset their Prince, either.”

“Is that so?” Bilbo sighed again. “I wish they wouldn’t treat me any differently.”

“I think it’s subconscious, for the most part.” Hamfast reassured him. “Even among us Hobbits we favour you, Bilbo. You do much for us without asking anything in return.”

Bilbo waved his head. “I really don’t do more than you would do for me.” He insisted. “I just want to make sure everything goes well for us all.”

Hamfast smiled. “And that’s why we all enjoy your company.”

His conversation with Hamfast gave him much to think about. He never really thought that what he did for his community was anything troublesome, or above what he thought would be done for him if needed. He knew that Legolas sought out his company more so than the Prince did for other Hobbits, but he had assumed it was because Legolas had been closer with him when he was a child. It certainly put things into perspective to think about, and Bilbo found that he appreciated those he had become close with even more after doing so. 

After dinner that evening, Bilbo found Thorin walking along the suspended paths looking awfully lost. “Prince Oakenshield,” he called, “do you need some help?”

Thorin looked flustered for a moment, before he nodded. “I believe I’ve gotten myself lost again.” He admitted. “I’m not used to your home just yet.”

“I understand.” Bilbo chuckled. He had been much the same when he was staying at Erebor. “You’re staying in the western guest wings, are you not? I’ll take you there.”

“Thank you.” Thorin said. “I apologise for troubling you again, Bilbo.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Bilbo reassured. “How was your evening?”

“Filled with meetings, again.” Thorin sighed. “But they’re progressing well. I sent a raven off to relay the progress of training before dinner, so I expect to hear a reply sometime tomorrow.”

“I hope all goes well, then.” Bilbo said. “Are you liking the Greenwood? I know it’s much different to Erebor.”

“I like it, though it is quite different.” Thorin agreed. “It’s strange to see so many trees and greenery in one place. I admit, I do miss my home, but yours is quite wonderful, too.”

Bilbo smiled, pleased. He was glad his home was being so well received. “I do hope you enjoy your stay here, Prince Oakenshield.” He said. “Even if there are an awful lot of vegetables involved.” 

Thorin chuckled. “Yes, well. Vegetables I can tolerate – my skin, however, not so much. It’s quite amusing to see them fuss over it, if I’m honest.”

“I suppose it would be!” Bilbo laughed. “Ah, your rooms are this way.”

Thorin hesitated for a moment, before reaching out to grasp Bilbo’s fingers. “I wanted to apologise for the behaviour of my people last night, too.” He murmured. “Their behaviour was unacceptable, and I’ve already spoken to them about it.”

Bilbo’s heart hammered nervously. “It’s… It can’t be helped.” He finally said. “I expected to be underestimated, and they’ve never seen a Hobbit…”

“No, it’s unacceptable.” Thorin insisted. “We are here with open minds and peaceful intentions, and Hobbit or otherwise I expect them to act and speak respectively. They were incredibly rude to you Bilbo, and you should not forgive them so lightly.”

Bilbo smiled a thin smile, and nodded. He didn’t know how to feel about the entire situation, but he would be glad to put it behind him. When Thorin’s fingers squeezed his own, he started to feel a little better. “Thank you for your consideration.” He said quietly. “I really do appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Thorin assured him. “I… My feelings towards Elves were just as my kin’s are, but when I think about dealing with it after I take the crown, it becomes tedious and childish. I do not want to deal with such stubbornness when I am King, and I believe that this arrangement can help to fix it. I want what’s best for both Erebor and the Greenwood, if at all possible.”

The Dwarf’s words were oddly comforting. Bilbo squeezed his fingers. “I’m glad to hear that.” He said. “It’d be nice to move between Erebor and the Greenwood more freely. I’ve always wanted to go on an adventure.”

Thorin chuckled. “Perhaps one day I can go on one with you.”


	8. VIII pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Festival preparations are well underway.

Bilbo spent much of the next day in the kitchens. Although he wished to spend his time with the ponies once again, there were much more pressing matters for him to attend to. While Hobbits were quite talented at cooking and baking, they were just as talented and fond of eating, and therefore there was much to be done. They, of course, took into account the differing diets of their guests, and although it was more work it was something they insisted on doing.

“Bilbo, we’re unsure about what the Dwarves like to eat the most.” One Hobbit told him that morning. “Would you be able to ask what they would like for us to make?”

He’d done as they wished simply because they asked him, mostly he didn’t often deny his kin such simple requests. If he could help out by doing such an easy task, then he certainly would. It had been a bit of a challenge tracking down Prince Oakenshield – Bilbo hadn’t felt confident enough to ask any of the other Dwarves he came across that morning – but eventually he had the answers the other Hobbits wanted. It was somewhat expected that the Dwarves would wish for meat, as they hadn’t appeared to be too fond of vegetables, not like Hobbits and Elves were. It was quite amusing, if Bilbo were being honest. If there were only one thing all their races had in common, it was a solid love for food. 

Still, the Dwarves’ love for meat was a little problematic, though it turned out to be nothing Bilbo couldn’t handle. It wasn’t often the Hobbits had meat other than chicken or fish, primarily out of respect for the Elves and their eating habits. He doubted Dwarves would be content with such lean meat during the festival, and he knew from his time in Erebor they rather enjoyed heady flavours, so it was decided they would use meat hunted and bought from Dale to serve the Dwarves. He had the Hobbits distribute the meat widely enough that there were several different options for the Dwarves, but not so much that it would impede on the Elves and their beliefs regarding food. He thought the food they prepared would be well received. 

By lunchtime, his attention had been averted to the maypoles. He’d left Bell in charge of them, and together with the Hobbits who could play musical instruments they had begun to prepare the maypole celebrations. There would be coordinated dancing and singing, and as such there was much to be organised, though he had no doubt that Bell could handle it just splendidly without him.

“I think everything is just about ready.” Bell told him as he overlooked all the ribbons she and her companions had made. “Well, as ready as can be, that is.”

Bilbo nodded, pleased. “I like these colours.” He said. “You’ve been working very hard, I can tell. I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing, really.” Bell said, smiling at him. “It’s the least I can do.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Nonsense,” he said, “you’ve got quite the important role. Who else could possibly create such wonderful ribbons? They’re going to look quite stunning on the maypoles, don’t you think?”

Bell laughed. “If you say so, then it must be true!”

“Keep me updated, if you will.” Bilbo said, smiling. “The festival is fast approaching, you know.”

Bell nodded her head, and then Bilbo was off. All the running around he was doing had left him hungry, but there was still more that had to be done before he could relax for the day. He’d snacked on some bread as he rushed around Thranduil’s Halls earlier that morning, but he was still quite hungry by the time he finally finished every pressing matter he’d had scheduled for the day. 

As he slumped against one of the dining tables, he couldn’t help but sigh. There was so much work to be done, and so little time. He did enjoy the festivals, and he didn’t want anyone else to have to stress so much over his job in his place, but he did wish he’d had time for a proper lunch, at least.

“Here, Mr Baggins.”

Bilbo startled at the sound of his name, and let out a pleased noise as a plate of food was slid across the table towards him. “Prince Oakenshield!” He said, surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here so late at night.”

“I missed dinner.” Thorin explained. “I was busy in meetings, and it seems that the time slipped away from me.”

Bilbo laughed quietly. “I must admit I know the feeling.” He said. “Thank you for the food.”

“You seemed quite busy today.” Thorin remarked. “How are preparations for your festival going?”

“They’re going well.” Bilbo said. “The music and maypoles are all sorted, and the decorations, as well. We’ll begin setting up the chairs and tables tomorrow evening, and most of the food has been prepared too. I’m happy with the progress.”

Thorin nodded. “Sounds eventful.”

“Very.” Bilbo grinned. “I do hope you Dwarves enjoy yourselves.”

“I’m sure we will.” Thorin reassured him. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m glad to hear that, then.” 

The food Thorin brought him was just to Bilbo’s tastes. There were vegetables and cheeses and even a small portion of fish – it was much like the food Bilbo had eaten in front of Thorin before, and he was surprised to find that Thorin had remembered what he favoured. It left him feeling rather warm on the inside. 

When they’d both finished their dinners, Bilbo accompanied Thorin on his walk back to the western guest wing. He made it out to seem that it was because he did not wish for Thorin to get lost again, and although that was true he also wished to spend more time with Thorin. The Dwarf was very pleasant to be around, and his way of speaking was one Bilbo could easily become accustomed to. Bilbo liked to hold his hand, though it embarrassed him to admit it.

“When will you continue the pony training?” Thorin asked curiously. “I wish to watch it, if I’m allowed.”

“You’re more than welcome to.” Bilbo said. “The festival is in two days’ time, so I should be able to devote my full attention to them after that. I believe I do have some free time tomorrow, so I’ll likely be in the pony fields sometime after lunch, if you’re free.”

Thorin nodded. “I’ll come join you, then.”

“Will your kin not get lost without your direction?” Bilbo asked. “They… Do not seem to favour me all that much.”

Thorin sighed. “They’re hard-headed, but they’ve always been that way.” He said. “Those that I am much closer to have no issues with Hobbits, I assure you, least of you in particular, Mr Baggins. I believe your skill with the ponies has won them over.”

“Already?”

Thorin nodded. “I loathe to admit it, but they had quite low expectations of you. They did not see you when you visited Erebor, nor how the ponies reacted to your presence. They did not believe me, either, when I attempted to tell them of your abilities. I’m glad you’ve proven me to be truthful.”

Bilbo laughed. “You Dwarves can be so difficult to understand at times.” He said.

“How so?”

“Well, you certainly don’t seem to have the temperament of Hobbits. We aren’t quick to place value on talents, but we are a dreadfully gossipy bunch. Dwarves are unlike Men, too, and are not as fragile as those from Dale seem to be. Of course, Dwarves are quite different from Elves, too! Why, you’re not even like Wizards, though I must admit I’ve only come across one of those. I had not expected to come across a race like yours, mostly because I did not know what to expect in the first place.”

Thorin hummed thoughtfully. “I understand.” He said. “I find Hobbits quite mystifying, as well.”

“Have you met some of my kin, then?”

Thorin nodded. “Briefly.” He said. “Your pointed ears made me think you are like Elves, but you are quite different, and not only physically, either. It’s quite a culture shock.”

Bilbo nodded. “But not a bad one.”

“But not a bad one.” Thorin agreed. “Tell me, Mr Baggins, but would you like to visit Erebor again? Even after the way my kin disrespected you.”

“I would.” Bilbo said, smiling. “I enjoyed my time in Erebor, and I feel as though there is still much in your mountain for me to see. One day I would like to return to the Shire, too.”

“The Shire? Where Hobbits are from?”

Bilbo nodded again. “Yes.” He answered. “My parents are buried there, as are much of my kin. It would be nice to see my original home once more.”

“Sounds like an adventure.” Thorin said. “I reviewed some maps we brought over the other evening, and I believe the Shire is located quite close to one of our cities.”

“Is it?”

Thorin nodded. “Yes, the Iron Hills. It’s where my younger sister currently resides.”

“You have siblings?”

“Yes,” Thorin said again, “two of them, a younger brother and a younger sister. Frerin is more suited to battling and battle politics than to running a mountain, so it is my sister who currently represents the Durin line in Iron Hills. She’s quite a smart girl.”

“You seem quite proud.”

“I am.”

The satisfied look in Thorin’s dark blue eyes made Bilbo’s heart hammer. It seemed that there were still many expressions Thorin had stored away for Bilbo to uncover, and he looked forward to seeing them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really dislike doing separate parts in fics like this, but I had no choice tonight ^^" My headaches are getting quite bad, so I had to cut it short~ I apologise :')


	9. VIII pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo liked spending time with Thorin.

Just as he’d said, Bilbo spent his next afternoon in the pony fields. He’d finally asked for the names of the ponies from Erebor, and found that they were named aptly after the precious gems and minerals Dwarves were incredibly fond of – Sterling, Shale and Ruby. 

Between the two that looked quite similar, Shale and Ruby, and the larger pony, Sterling, he found that it was the pair of ponies that worked better in a group. Shale and Ruby were very receptive to the Greenwood ponies, and they socialised quite freely and pleasantly. While they never strayed far from one another, they were not afraid to approach other ponies even if they were all spread out in the field. Sterling was different; he was quieter, and seemed to lumber around without any intention of seeking out the other ponies for company. While he wasn’t antisocial, he didn’t seem to particularly need companionship, either. The ponies from Erebor were certainly quite interesting.

Training them was easy once he had figured out exactly what they responded best to. With Shale and Ruby, he worked with them in a group. Ponies from the Greenwood were good examples for them to follow, and with others they learned quite swiftly and efficiently. Training with Sterling was different. With Sterling, Bilbo liked to train him individually. While it was a little more difficult than if he had other ponies around, it wasn’t impossible, and Sterling could be very motivated with food rewards. 

He explained as much to Thorin when the Dwarven Prince arrived at the pony field that afternoon.

“I was surprised that this pony in particular was sent from the mountain.” Thorin said, as he gently pet Sterling’s shoulder. “He’s got quite the brooding character to him.”

Bilbo chuckled. “It’s one of his charm points, I’m sure.” Bilbo said. “He just prefers to learn things on his own, that’s all. He’s doing just as well as the others in the group, so I see no problem with his brooding nature.”

Thorin smiled to himself. “I see,” he murmured, “I’m glad to hear that, then. You seem to be progressing remarkably well with them and their training.”

“I think so.” Bilbo nodded in agreement. “Ponies are always fast learners, and I do spend a lot of time with them. Did you hear back from that raven you sent off to Erebor?”

“Oh, I did, yes.” Thorin said. “They’re pleased with the results.”

“That’s good.” Bilbo replied. “I hope our citadels can become closer soon.”

“I do as well.” Thorin nodded. “How long do you think your training will take?”

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully. “Quite some time yet.” He answered. “I can’t accurately predict how long it will take because every pony is different and I don’t have a set schedule I can follow in regards to training time, but it shouldn’t take so long that your kin get impatient.”

Thorin chuckled. “It’s not difficult to make them impatient.” He admitted. “But I’m glad to hear I still have some time in the Greenwood yet. I do enjoy our talks, Mr Baggins.”

Bilbo flushed. “I-I do as well.” He said bashfully.

Thorin smiled on of his charming smiles again. He looked quite satisfied with himself. 

 

“You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with the Dwarven Prince.” Galion remarked as he slowly dragged a brush through Bilbo’s tangled hair. “Our Prince is going to get jealous.”

Bilbo huffed. “Have you been watching me Galion?”

“Of course not.” Galion laughed. “I haven’t particularly been watching you, but there are others that check in on you for me.”

“By your order?”

“Perhaps.”

“Galion…” Bilbo started on a sigh.

“Hush now,” Galion soothed, placating, “it is my job to worry for you, _mellon._ In either case, Prince Legolas regularly checks in on you, too. We have no reason to trust these Dwarves.”

“Yet.” Bilbo insisted.

“Yet,” Galion conceded, “but nevertheless we still worry. How is the training going? I trust you’ve proven yourself to be quite talented already.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Yes, I think so.” He said. “The training is going well.”

Galion hummed. He focused on untangling Bilbo’s hair, windswept from pony riding in the late afternoon, and carefully began to sooth the messy locks down. “I have no doubt that you can protect yourself adequately, Bilbo, but do be careful around the Dwarves, especially the Prince. I worry for you greatly.”

Sighing, Bilbo reached back a hand to gently pet the one Galion rested on his shoulder. “I will be,” he said, “if just to sooth your heart.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” Galion replied. “I do hope your heart is not broken by this foreign Prince, _mellon.”_

Bilbo’s cheeks turned red at Galion’s implications, but he made no attempt to correct the Elf. It would be futile to try and change Galion’s interpretation of his relationship with Thorin, though he doubted the Elf was wrong in what he said. Galion was far more perceptive in such matters than Bilbo was, after all. 

“Have the Dwarves been invited to the festival?” Galion asked as he set aside the ornate brush in favour of helping Bilbo to his feet. 

“Yes.” Bilbo said. He took a moment to crawl under his bedsheets before turning back to face Galion. “Does that bother you?”

Galion shook his head. “It does not bother me, but others it might. Alas, I do not believe that that is anything you have control over.”

“I suppose not...” Bilbo mused. “But I wish there was less animosity amongst everyone.” 

“It cannot be helped.” Galion said. He drew shut Bilbo’s curtains before making his way to the armchair permanently stationed beside Bilbo’s bed. “I’ll wait for you to fall asleep, but I will not stay tonight. Is that alright, Bilbo?”

He nodded, and rested more comfortably against his bed sheets. “I hope everything goes well.” Bilbo whispered. “I haven’t been around any other Dwarves recently, but they’ll be present at the festival…”

Galion pat his leg reassuringly. “If any Dwarf dare make a fuss during your festival, they will have a whole army of angered Elves to deal with.”

 

The Greenwood was a beautiful place in the early morning. Bilbo wasn’t often an early riser, but that morning he was. He didn’t know what had woken him, but he didn’t think it was anything in particular, and as he found himself strolling through the quiet corridors of Thranduil’s Halls, he came across none other than Thorin. “Prince Oakenshield?”

“Ah, Bilbo.” Thorin said, voice quiet. “You’re up early today.”

“As are you.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Thorin admitted. “I am unused to these halls.”

Bilbo nodded in understanding, and tentatively held out his hand. “Shall we go on a walk, then? To ease your mind.”

Thorin didn’t hesitate before putting his hand in Bilbo’s. “I appreciate you accommodating me this much during my stay.” He said. “You needn’t of.”

Bilbo grinned. “It’s my pleasure.” He said. “I can never miss an opportunity to show off my home.”

Thorin chuckled quietly. “Yes, I can see why. Your home is rather marvellous to look at, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Bilbo smiled. Conversation was pleasant and simple as he lead Thorin through the wide, open caverns of the Greenwood. Spending time with Thorin like this reminded him of when Thorin first arrived here and Bilbo was happy to show off every detail he could. Eventually, when the sun started to rise higher above the horizon, he took Thorin above ground, though not quite to the pony fields. “This is where the festival will be held.” He explained.

Thorin nodded, glancing around curiously. “This space is quite nice.” He said. “It’s very open, and quite natural.”

Bilbo nodded. “We Hobbits use this field quite frequently.” He said, sweeping out his hand. “The food will go here, and the four maypoles are at the other end of the field, where the higher tree branches clear away a little.”

“Sounds lovely.”

Bilbo smiled, and nodded again. “I’m quite excited for it, though I have a lot of organising and preparing to do today.”

Thorin chuckled. “I wish you luck.”


	10. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The festival begins.

By the time all the chairs and tables had been set up, it was well into the afternoon. It had taken longer than Bilbo expected, but he supposed he should have guessed it would considering more people would be joining them this year. Still, everything else was on time, and when the tables were finally set up it wasn’t long before the Hobbits in charge of specific sections were set to work. Food, decorations and utensils were all set up in quick order, and Bilbo was rather pleased to find he could spend his time helping other Hobbits set up all the maypole ribbons and the small platform for the performers instead. 

“Ah, Bilbo, can you help me carry something from the kitchen? We’ve almost got it all out now…”

“Yes, one moment.” Bilbo called over his shoulder. He finished tying one of the long maypole ribbons to its designated peg in the ground before standing. The kitchens were not too far from the festival field, but it was far enough that carrying out all the food they prepared took some time.

The trays he carried out from the kitchens were laden with sweet breads infused with berries and dessert spices like nutmeg and cinnamon. Just the scent of food had Bilbo’s stomach rumbling, eager to try them. He was almost glad he hadn’t had time for lunch today, now. 

“This way?” He asked as he followed the Hobbit ahead of him.

“Yes, but mind the stairs.”

“Stairs-” Bilbo let out a surprised noise as the first step suddenly appeared before his foot. He stumbled for a moment, and all the bread began to slide on the tray. For a moment he feared he would fall and ruin the hard work of those that had spent hours cooking, but then large hands suddenly grabbed at his waist to straighten him.

“Careful there, Mr Baggins.” Thorin said. “I seem to catch you quite a bit.”

Bilbo turned bright red as he bashfully glanced up at Thorin. “P-Prince Oakenshield! I apologise…”

“There is nothing to apologise for.” Thorin said. “Are you alright?”

“Quite fine,” Bilbo answered, “I didn’t see the step, that’s all.”

Thorin chuckled. “You seem quite busy.”

“I am.” Bilbo smiled sheepishly. “You’re coming to the festival, are you not?”

“I am.” Thorin nodded. “I look forward to it.”

Bilbo grinned. He was glad to hear that, especially when he and everyone else put so much effort into it. Hobbits enjoyed sharing their carousing, after all, and it often did not matter who they shared it with. The more the merrier, it seemed.

“I’ll let you get back to it, then.” Thorin said, drawing his hands back. “I’ll see you later?”

He sounded hopeful, and Bilbo started nodded before he realised what he was doing. He was sure he had a dopey look on his face, and if an Elf he knew should happen to see him he would surely be teased, but in that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care all too much. “Of course!” He said with another grin. 

Pleased, Thorin nodded at him politely before he was on his way. Bilbo watched him go with a content smile before carrying on up the stairs. 

Preparations went surprisingly smoothly after that. Bilbo didn’t trip over anything, and once all the food was laid out it seemed that just about everything was complete. The platform for the musicians was in place, as where all the tables and all the chairs with their lovely decorations. He was pleased to find that all the lanterns had been lit, and although there was still sunlight it would soon fade. 

_“Mellon,”_ a voice called from across the field, _“you must go get ready!”_

Bilbo turned to face Elros, who waved at him courteously. It was rather late, he thought, and as he glanced down at his messy clothing he figured that taking Elros’s advice would probably be for the best. He followed the taller Elf without a complaint, and once he arrived at his room, he let Elros choose his clothing. Bilbo wasn’t particularly bad at coordinating his clothes, but Elros was far better at it, and any chance he had to dress someone up was one he very much enjoyed. Bilbo could let Elros baby him a little if it made him happy.

The clothing Elros chose was quite wonderful. He’d always had an eye for detail, and Bilbo felt quite comfortable in what he chose. It was a nice mix between traditionally Elvish clothing and traditionally Hobbit clothing, complete with a waistcoat that had pretty gold buttons and a circlet gifted to him by Galion the day he came of age. Later, Bilbo was sure some Hobbit would convince him to let them weave ribbons and flowers through it, but such was the attitude of his kin.

When they arrived back at the field, Bilbo was pleased to see that the festival was just beginning. 

“What a wonderful job you’ve done this year, my friend.” Elros praised, patting Bilbo’s hand where it rested on his elbow gently. “I’m very impressed.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo smiled. “I’m glad to see everything all set up now.”

Elros chuckled. “Yes, I can imagine it’s quite a fair bit of work. Is it worth it, in the end?”

“Very much so.” 

 

There was so much eating and singing and dancing to be done that Bilbo soon lost track of time. He wanted to try everything the chefs had made, but he particularly enjoyed his sweet breads and pastries. The musicians played wonderful, lively music, and he danced until his feet hurt with his friends and companions. He wasn’t much of a singer, but he sang along to the songs he knew, just like every other Hobbit. 

When he finally spotted the Dwarves hidden amongst all the people in the field, he’d found himself struck with the urge to seek out Thorin’s company. Surely he must be enjoying himself – or at least, Bilbo hoped he was. It had been a little difficult to pick out Thorin from the crowd of Dwarves, but Thorin was one of the taller ones, and soon enough Bilbo caught his gaze. He stood to move in Thorin’s direction, but then the music changed, and Bilbo knew it was time for the maypole dancing. After casting an apologetic look at Thorin, he instead began to move to where the maypoles had been set up.

“Bilbo, will you be joining us?” Bell called as she rushed over, her skirts flaring out widely around her knees. “I’ve made enough ribbons for you to, if you wish!”

“Of course!” He grinned. All of the ribbons were different colours, but none clashed on the same pole, and as he looked closer he noticed that there were two of each colour on each pole. “Who am I partnering with?” He asked. 

“I would dance with you, but…” She trailed off thoughtfully, looking over her shoulder.

Bilbo grinned wider. “You simply must dance with Hamfast.” He exclaimed, even as her cheeks turned red. 

“I think Marigold doesn’t have a partner yet.” Bell quickly said. She waved Marigold over, and then she was off to the second maypole, leaving Bilbo by the first.

“Would you like to dance with me, Mr Baggins?” Marigold asked bashfully. She was younger than Bilbo by a few years, and shorter too. Her face was flushed from the festivities, and her long, golden curls were entangled with flowers and ribbons and a pretty circlet gifted to her by her guardian. Tentatively, she held out her hand.

Bilbo laughed, and took it without hesitation. “Of course,” he said, “if you will call me Bilbo!”

“Alright, Bilbo.” She laughed too, and together they went to take up their respective ribbons across from each other on the maypole. 

The ribbon Bilbo held was a light coral colour. It was soft in his hands, and very well made. When he looked around at the other people at the maypole, their ribbons were all similar shades of pinks, oranges, peaches and white. The next pole – where Hamfast and Bell stood across from one another – was similar in its gradient, but it was in a yellow hue, instead. Bilbo guessed that the next colour themes for the year would be very spring-time centred, then. The last two maypoles that the Hobbits would share with the Elves were a mixture of blues, pale greens and gentle browns. He was quite pleased to see them look so wonderful.

The music began, and then they were off. Bilbo didn’t know the routine by heart, but Bell had strategically placed people that did around the maypoles so that everyone could dance together. He made sure to watch Marigold, and to parrot her movements – when she lifted her ribbon, he did too, and when she spun under the next person’s, he did as well. It was entrancing to watch the way the ribbons wrapped around the pole in increasingly complex patterns, and it made him admire Bell’s proficiency at organising the entire event. 

As the music progressed, so did the dance. At one point Bilbo found himself suddenly face to face with Marigold, and with a laugh he danced around her back to his place. The length of the ribbon in his hand was slowly decreasing, but even with the knowledge that soon the song would come to an end he continued to enjoy himself. 

The music did end, eventually, and with a laugh Bilbo held tightly onto his short ribbon and bowed. His kin seemed so happy, and he just knew that not a single one of them had missed a step. After tucking the end of his ribbon into the bottom of the pole, he took a step back to admire the ribbons decorating the pole.

“It looks so good, doesn’t it?” Marigold said as she came over to give him a friendly hug. “Thank you for dancing with me!”

“It was my pleasure.” Bilbo laughed. “I love the colours Bell chose.”

Marigold nodded in agreement. “They’re wonderful!” 

Galion was quick to come find Bilbo as the dance ended. He swept Bilbo into a warm embrace without inhibition, and with a laugh Bilbo realised he’d probably had a little too much of his favourite wine already. 

_“Mellon, you seem a little clumsy tonight.”_ Bilbo teased. _“Are you sure you can walk straight?”_

 _“Of course!”_ Galion cried, outraged. _“I would never miss a chance to see my dear friend dancing and celebrating.”_

 _“Is that so?”_ Bilbo laughed. “Where is Elros? It’s strange to see you apart when wine is available!”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s around somewhere, my dear.” Galion waved a hand. “But I wanted to see you, so here I am.”

“I see, I see.” Bilbo said. “Have you enjoyed yourself tonight, Galion?”

“I have, very much.” He said, nodding. “Our dear Elros has, as well.”

“I’m glad. Have you seen Prince Legolas this evening?”

“I have.” Galion nodded. “He seems quite apprehensive with the Dwarves here, but I believe he’s enjoyed the festivities just as much as he usually does. I’m sure he’ll come find you eventually.”

 _“I’m right here, my friends.”_ A familiar voice said. _“Galion, must you drape yourself across Bilbo so?”_

Galion straightened with a small, sheepish cough. _“My Prince.”_ He greeted. _“I’ll take my leave now, then. I’m sure Elros is positively lonely without me.”_

Bilbo laughed, and waved Galion off. He certainly was quite different when he’d had his wine, but it wasn’t anything Bilbo disliked him for. If anything, it was quite amusing. “Good evening, Prince Legolas. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am.” Legolas nodded. “Your dancing was quite marvellous.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll hardly compare to when you Elves join us.” Bilbo said. “Will you be dancing?”

Legolas shook his head. “No, but I’m sure Galion and Elros can be convinced to.”

Bilbo laughed again. “I’m sure they can.” 

“Have you spoken to the Dwarves yet?”

“No, not yet. I’ve been a bit preoccupied.” Bilbo admitted. 

Legolas hummed. “I believe their Prince wishes to speak to you.”

Bilbo perked up a little. “D-does he?”

“Yes.” Legolas said. “But I do want you to be careful, _mellon._ Not all the Dwarves seem as pleased to be here as Oakenshield does.”

“I’ll be fine.” Bilbo said. “Thank you for your concern.”

Legolas nodded politely once more before he took his leave. Bilbo knew that the Elven Prince would keep an eye on him even if he pretended not to, but he didn’t mind. Legolas’s concern was flattering, and Bilbo knew that he would do the same if he were in Legolas’s position. He’d grown up around the Prince, and they had a tight bond.

Even still, Bilbo wasn’t hesitant to wish for Thorin’s company. He would heed Legolas’s warning, because he knew it to be true first hand, but that didn’t stop him from searching through the crowd for Thorin’s familiar figure. When he found him, it was only to suddenly meet Thorin’s eyes. Had Thorin been watching him? 

The thought made Bilbo flush, and with a wide smile he held up his hand in a small wave. Thorin excused himself from his companions, and began to make his way over. Bilbo was glad he had come.


	11. X pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The festival continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, another unfortunate half-chapter ^____T I apologise, but I simply didn't have time tonight ^^"

Thorin’s cheeks were tinged with red as he swiftly approached Bilbo from across the field. “Your dance was marvellous!” He exclaimed, even before he said a greeting, as he reached out to grasp both of Bilbo’s little hands in his own. “I’ve never seen anything like it in all my life.”

Bilbo grinned, flushed at the honest flattering. “Thank you very much, Prince Oakenshield.”

“Just Thorin.” He insisted with a gentle laugh. “Who was it you dance across the maypole from?”

“Oh, you mean Marigold?” Bilbo hummed thoughtfully. “She’s an acquaintance of mine, and she didn’t have a partner, so we paired up. She’d quite a good dancer, you know.”

“Yes, I could tell.” Thorin chuckled. His grip on Bilbo’s hands relaxed a little, just enough for Bilbo to notice, and he started to wonder if it was his imagination telling him that Thorin looked a tag more relieved than he had before or not.

“Have you eaten much tonight?” Bilbo asked. “I sincerely hope the food is adequate enough.”

“I’ve had a little to eat.” Thorin nodded. “I must say, it’s quite delicious.”

“What do your kin think of it?”

“They’re begrudgingly impressed.” Thorin chuckled. “I believe they don’t wish to admit it, that’s all, but they’re undoubtedly enjoying the food.”

Bilbo grinned, satisfied. He was glad all their effort was paying off. “Would you like to eat some more, then?”

“Only if you’ll join me.” Thorin smiled, as charming as always. 

Bilbo didn’t think his cheeks could turn any redder. Surely Thorin must have noticed what his attentions did to Bilbo by now. “Have you tried the cinnamon-berry pastries yet? Why, they’re one of my favourite desserts!” He said, despite how flustered he felt.

“I haven’t yet, no.”

“Then you simply must!” Bilbo declared. He led Thorin by the hands to the tables laden with food, and was pleased to find that there was still much to go around. Hobbits always prepared more food than necessary, but it was great to have leftovers for when everyone rested after the festivals. There was nothing nicer than heating up good food with friends and family around a fire. Bilbo was rather looking forward to those times, as well.

When he led Thorin to the tables, he couldn’t help but point out every detail he felt was important – of course, that was all of them, but Thorin didn’t seem to mind. He listened with a content, if somewhat amused expression on his face as Bilbo went to the effort of pointing out every detail of every dish he passed. He was quite enthusiastic about his desserts, though that much was obvious, and as he passed the cinnamon-berry pastries he was sure to hand one over to Thorin. When Thorin asked about what Bilbo’s favourite foods were, he too found himself handing over more and more bits for Thorin to try (with apt and lengthy descriptions, of course).

By the time they went to sit down at an empty, nearby table, both Thorin and Bilbo were just about full. Of course Bilbo still snuck a sickly-sweet sugar pastry over to the table before one of his Elvish friends could come and stop him from ruining his teeth.

“Even the wine is quite delicious.” Thorin sighed wistfully as he took a sip from his cup.

“Galion would be glad to hear you say so.” Bilbo chuckled. “He’s quite the connoisseur of wines, you know. Though perhaps he has a tendency to drink too much…”

Thorin laughed. “I see. Galion is your guardian, is he not?”

Bilbo nodded. He reached up a hand to touch the circlet sitting on his head. “Galion gifted me this.” He said. “Though Elros had some say in designing it, I’m sure.”

“Galion did?”

Bilbo nodded. “Amongst the Hobbits that originally arrived in the Greenwood, those that were underage were given a guardian. It’s become somewhat of a tradition now for the guardians to gift their charges with a traditional circlet once they come of age.”

“I see.” Thorin said. He leaned across the table a little, peering closer at the circlet with inquisitive eyes. “It’s quite a wonderful piece, if I may say so.”

“That’s quite the compliment, coming from you. Dwarves are talented at jewellery making, are they not?”

“We are.” Thorin said. “But Elves are quite talented at making pretty little trinkets, too.”

Bilbo chuckled. “I suppose they are.” 

The music changed as they continued to talk, and with a jolt of excitement Bilbo realised that the Elves would begin to dance soon. After taking a last, small sip of his wine, he stood, and held out his hand to Thorin. “Care to come watch with me?” He asked.

Thorin smiled as he took Bilbo’s hand. “It’d be my pleasure.”

Predictably, the Elves were much more elegant than the Hobbits. Although they danced to Hobbit choreography, there were indisputably parts mixed in taken from their own traditional routines. Bilbo was pleased to see that Galion and Elros would dance across from one another, and that even Tauriel had forgone her somewhat strict exterior to take part in the merrymaking. Although Legolas did not, Bilbo saw him across the field, content to watch.

When the Elves began to dance, they did so with a grace that always astounded Bilbo. It was mesmerizing to watch the ribbons wind themselves around the maypole, even more so now that he was not a part of its making. He’d never seen anyone dance as beautifully as Elves did, and even those that were perhaps a little off balanced like Galion could still be beautiful and alluring and full of grace.

“I’ve never seen the Elves like this.” Thorin remarked as he watched the performance. 

“They’re a very mysterious race.” Bilbo agreed with a nod. “Even now I still learn unexpected things from them every day.”

Thorin hummed. “I hope one day our races can be closer.” He admitted. “I hadn’t even known of Hobbits until you first visited Erebor with your ponies.”

Bilbo chuckled. “I would not have expected you to.” He said, patting Thorin’s arm consolingly. “We’re a small race, and we’re very scattered now. There’s no terrible need for us to be involved in the politics of the larger world when we are so sheltered and so few.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” Thorin said. “Still, I’ve quite enjoyed myself tonight. I must thank you for inviting us.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.”

“You didn’t have to extend an invitation, so I appreciate that you did.” Thorin said warmly. “Even if my kin are still being stubborn…”

Bilbo chuckled again. “As long as they enjoy themselves, then that’s all that matters!” He said as the Elven dance came to an end. “I really do hope we’ve been hospitable enough.”

“You’ve been more than hospitable.” Thorin assured him. They both clapped politely as the Elves finished, and then they turned back to wander around the field. Conversation was easy and casual, and Bilbo was more than happy to just let himself enjoy it. Even when Galion flittered over to ask if Bilbo had watched him (to which he would only leave when Bilbo assured him that yes, he had watched, and yes, Galion had been as stunning as ever) Bilbo found himself reluctant to stray from Thorin’s side.

“Do you want another drink?” Thorin asked as they found table in the back corner for themselves. “I’ll get you something.”

“Ah, yes please.” Bilbo smiled bashfully. “Just juice is fine.”

Thorin nodded, and for a moment Bilbo allowed himself to watch Thorin go. He’d never thought of romance or any sort of relationship in regards to his future, but it didn’t seem like such a farfetched idea, now. He’d always had a penchant for caring for others, even when he was just a Faunt, so to think that maybe someone could care for him in the way he wished to care for someone was quite a warming thought.

Suddenly, several Dwarves appeared at the edge of the table. 

“So you’re the Halfling that’s been running our Prince in circles.” One spat at him before Bilbo could even mutter a word. 

“U-um…” Bilbo started, holding up his hands as his heart sank into his stomach. “I-I didn’t mean…”

A harsh burst of Khuzdul came from another Dwarf, and Bilbo just knew it was nothing good. His heart began to race as he hesitantly stood to take a step back, but that only seemed to make the Dwarves angrier. These Dwarves weren’t the ones Bilbo had been introduced to before, and they didn’t seem to be friendly at all.

“I-I’m sorry,” Bilbo stuttered as they started to snap at him in Khuzdul, “I don’t- I don’t understand-”

“Know your place, Halfling.” A Dwarf snapped, taking a threatening step forwards. “What do you think you’ll gain from following the Prince around like a leech? You’ll never be anything to us.”

Bilbo flinched, and felt tears flood his eyes. He turned and escaped before another word could be said, and tried not to shrink too far into his shoulders when he felt heavy stares burning into his back. There suddenly seemed like there were too many people in the field, and he didn’t want anyone to see him so upset, not on a night they worked so hard to organise. For a moment he caught sight of Thorin by the food tables, but their eyes only connected for a second before Bilbo ducked away. 

Even if he wanted to escape, there would always be a person who would never let him leave – Legolas. 

The Elven Prince caught him by the shoulder as he neared the edge of the field. _“Mellon, who has upset you?”_ Legolas asked, voice strict as he brushed his finger under Bilbo’s damp eyes. _“What did those disgraceful Dwarves say?”_

Bilbo only huffed wetly, and without any warning, he promptly burst into tears.


	12. X pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The festival concludes with less than pleasant results.

_“Come now,”_ Legolas murmured, _“don’t cry, mellon.”_

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Bilbo said, ashamed, _“I don’t mean to.”_

_“Nonsense. Do not feel chagrined, Bilbo. There is no reason for you to. Now, tell me exactly what happened before Galion catches sight of you.”_

_“It’s just…”_ Bilbo struggled for words. _“Why do the Dwarves not like me?”_

Legolas hummed. _“It’s less of a matter of liking, and one of respect.”_ He said. _“What have they said to you this time?”_

Bilbo frowned, eyes downcast. _“They told me that I should be- be mindful of my place.”_ He whimpered. _“They were speaking to me in Khuzdul, and I didn’t- I didn’t understand…”_

Legolas tensed, looking incredibly displeased. He waited for Bilbo to speak instead of insisting on the issue, which Bilbo was glad for.

 _“I just,”_ Bilbo began, frustrated, _“they bring up Thorin, and insinuate that I’m wasting his time… Or that I’m not good enough to occupy it, because I’m a Halfling. I don’t know what I’ve done to make them hate me so.”_

Legolas frowned. He looked incredibly annoyed, though perhaps anyone who did not know him so well wouldn’t have noticed. His eyes were sharp as they glanced across the field, and they only seemed to get sharper as he predictably came across Dwarves. _“We should have not trusted them to be respectful in our home.”_ Legolas murmured. _“I knew something like this would happen eventually.”_

Bilbo looked up at the tall Elf inquisitively.

Legolas only sighed. _“Do you really think the Prince has much sway over his kin? Even by Dwarvish standards he’s young. As soon as he showed interest in you those that are more… Barbaric amongst his kin would surely make their opinion known, and they have.”_

Bilbo lowered his eyes again, teary. _“Is that why they dislike me? Because of Prince Oakenshield’s interest?”_

 _“Perhaps that is a contributing factor.”_ Legolas murmured. _“You know the Dwarves are far more adverse to our presence than they would like to admit, and their stubbornness makes them incredibly painful to deal with. They’re irrational, Bilbo, and I fear that they’ll hurt you like this again and again without any thought to the consequences we’ll force upon them.”_

Shakily, he rubbed at his eyes again. _“I don’t want Thorin to get hurt.”_ Bilbo whispered pathetically. _“He’s trying hard to make sure we get along, like I wanted…”_

Legolas pulled him closer, and placed a comforting hand on top of his head. _“I know you mean well, mellon,”_ he soothed, _“but some things just can’t be changed with sweet smiles and friendly words. Even if the Prince admires you and is willing to forgo his race’s distaste of Elves, that does not mean his Father will, or that his kin will. Unfortunately, they see Hobbits as Elves, too, which does not work in your favour.”_

Although he knew Legolas spoke nothing more and nothing less than the truth, Bilbo still found himself wishing it wasn’t so. He wanted them to get along for more than just trading purposes, for more than pony training and week-long visitations. So much could be achieved if they worked together, could it not? And yet both races, even his Elves, remained stubborn and uncooperative, too tightly holding onto mistakes of the past that should have long since been forgotten and forgiven. _“What am I to do, Legolas?”_ He asked quietly. He wasn’t the type of person to regularly drop honorifics, even with his close friends, but in this instance he did. He didn’t want advice from Legolas-the-Prince, the one who had a duty to protect his people, but rather from Legolas-the-friend, the Legolas that would consider his feelings carefully before making a decision.

Legolas eyes flickered up for a moment. _“You shall do no more,”_ he said, _“other than console your drunken guardian.”_

Bilbo glanced over his shoulder and found that Galion was indeed striding over. His cheeks were flushed from the wine but his eyes were steely, and all in his path moved out of his way without hesitation. When Galion did arrive before them, he straightened himself up to his full height as though to challenge Legolas, and pulled Bilbo into his arms. Bilbo knew that his silly guardian didn’t believe Legolas was the cause of his upset, but Galion could be quite overprotective, even more so when his inhibitions had lowered. 

And although he felt incredibly childish, he couldn’t help but burrow his way into Galion’s welcoming arms. Even though the scent of wine and food clinging to him, Bilbo could smell a scent that was undeniably familiar. It offered him comfort, as did the hand Galion lifted to touch the back of his head. Of all the Elves Bilbo knew, Galion was perhaps the most affectionate, and he considered himself fortunate to have been assigned to him as a Faunt.

 _“The festival is almost drawing to a close,”_ Legolas murmured, _“take him home.”_

Galion nodded without complaint, and turned away from their Prince. _“All things considered,”_ he said, as he swiftly led Bilbo away by the elbow, _“did you at least enjoy yourself, my dear?”_

Bilbo nodded, and as he wiped away the last of the wetness on his cheeks, he offered Galion a weak smile. _“I did. I’m sorry for cutting your night early.”_

_“Nonsense. I believe it’s time that I rest, too.”_

“Bilbo!” 

He flinched at the sound of his name, though more out of surprise than fear or shock, and turned his head back to look at Prince Oakenshield as he rushed over. 

The Dwarven Prince looked incredibly flustered, and he seemed to struggle to find the words he wanted to say for a moment. He finally settled on forcing out an overly concerned, “Are you alright?” before Galion intervened.

“Not tonight, Dwarf.” He murmured. His voice was an appropriate mix of sharpness and neutrality that could still be considered polite while effectively and clearly getting his message across. It was a tone Bilbo couldn’t replicate. “Prince or otherwise, you are not to bother us for the remainder of the evening.”

 _“Galion,”_ Bilbo said, tugging on the Elf’s sleeve a little, _“are you not being harsh?”_

 _“No, Bilbo.”_ Galion said, turning him away from Thorin. _“I am not.”_

Bilbo cast Thorin one last look over his shoulder as Galion led him away. It took Bilbo a moment to realise why he felt so uneasy – he didn’t blame Thorin, but was Thorin aware of that? It wasn’t completely unreasonable to think that Thorin thought Bilbo might have, considering he was being led away red-eyed by rather protective Elves. 

Either way, Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to leave the safety of Galion’s side. A night of rest would do him the world of good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I really wanted to write more but my headaches are getting worse so I couldn't manage it tonight ^_____T I'm scheduled in for the optometrist tomorrow, and then I'm having an MRI scan in a week, so hopefully it can get resolved soon and I can get back to writing chapters I'm actually proud of T_T
> 
> On the other hand, tomorrow marks day 500 of my writing streak, hehe ^^


	13. XI pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolution begins.

The next day, after a hasty but nice and fulfilling breakfast, Bilbo returned to the pony fields. With all the effort he had put into the festival, he’d had to lessen the time he spent with the animals, and as such they’d been cooped up in their respective stables for longer than he would have liked them to be. They were antsy when he entered the stables, but more so his own ponies than the ones from Erebor.

He tended to them first. Myrtle butted into his hands affectionately when he unlatched her stables, and both Minty and Maisy let out content whinnies when he set them free with friendly pats. The other Greenwood ponies were just as relieved to see him as the first trio had been, and it left him feeling oddly warm to know that the animals loved him as much as he loved them. 

He went slower with the Erebor ponies. They were familiar with him, yes, but still cautious, and he didn’t want them to begin to feel isolated or disturbed by anything that happened throughout the duration of their stay. He let out Shale and Ruby first – they seemed more comfortable than Sterling, and with a little provoking and gentle, murmured words in Elvish they complied without any hesitation. Sterling was more of a challenge. While he was calm, he remained persistently at the back of his stall.

When Bilbo approached him, he didn’t flinch. Instead, the pony only watched Bilbo with a steady, measured gaze. He was quite a silent animal, Bilbo thought. It seemed as though Sterling liked to brood, but Bilbo thought that maybe that wasn’t the case. Perhaps Sterling just liked the quiet. It wasn’t such an unbelievable thought, especially not when faced with a pony such as Sterling.

Although it took some gentle patting and a little extra time, he eventually lured Sterling out into the field, too. He didn’t seem interested in socialising with the other ponies, but he didn’t shy away from them either, which Bilbo took as a good sign. So long as Sterling didn’t act frightened, stressed or angry than Bilbo was fine with him being quiet and solitary. 

Training was simple when the Greenwood was calm like it was. There was always a serene silence coating the forest after a festival, and whether it was an Elvish festival or a Hobbit one the silence remained. It was pleasant, surprisingly, and much work always got done by those who woke up in time to savour it like Bilbo did. 

The ponies were receptive to his attention after not having it for a day. He got much done before someone came out to the fields in search of him – in fact, he was rather pleased by the ponies' progress. They were eager to follow commands, and he’d starting teaching them things without food rewards now that they were willing to listen and learn from him. Despite everything that had happened, he hoped the Dwarves were pleased with the results of their agreement. 

When someone did come in search of him, he was shocked to find that it was Dwarves and not Elves. If anyone, he expected perhaps Thorin to come searching for him, but it wasn’t the familiar Prince that he found walking across the field. No, it was his companions – the three Dwarves that had originally arrived with the ponies. He couldn’t help but bulk behind Sterling as they approached, and he hoped his expression didn’t betray just how nervous he felt. He’d never talked to these particular Dwarves past their first meeting, and he didn’t know where he stood with them. He didn’t want to particularly find out, either.

“Don’t look so frightened, Hobbit.” Dwalin, the largest of the Dwarves, growled as they approached. “We ain’t here to hurt you.”

Bilbo flinched, and had to force down a whimper when it built up unexpectedly in his throat. He didn’t want to disrespect them, so he swallowed his fears and released his hands from where he’d unintentionally grabbed loose fistfuls of Sterling’s mane. “H-how can I help you?” He asked tentatively. 

“It’s not you we need help from, Hobbit.” Gloin said. His voice was a lot more polite than Dwalin’s, but his presence still made Bilbo nervous. 

“What they mean to say,” Balin started gently, “is that our loyalties lie with our Prince. We have no desire to make conflict between our peoples. Just the opposite, actually.”

Bilbo nodded cautiously. He didn’t move out from behind Sterling, but he didn’t ask them to leave, either. These Dwarves didn’t seem like the others. They seemed to respect Thorin whole-heartedly, despite their Prince’s young age and lack of battle experience. 

“We’re more here on Thorin’s behalf than anything, laddie.” Balin continued. He was much more cautious about his words, which Bilbo appreciated. He felt like perhaps Balin was the type of person he’d get along with eventually. “It’s plain for us to see that he’s quite fond of you, and that’s causing some tension amongst our kin.”

“I-I apologise, I didn’t mean…”

“No, no, it’s not your fault, child.” Balin shook his head. “Not at all. We’re just concerned Thorin wouldn’t be able to handle them, and that you’ve unjustly beared the brunt of their stubbornness. It’s unfair on you and our Prince if their actions come to harm either of you in any way, you see.”

Bilbo looked down. He hadn’t thought about it in that way before, but what Balin said certainly did made sense. Bilbo didn’t believe that all the Dwarves were as mean as the ones he’d experienced so far, and he was glad to find that he had been right. “I don’t know what I can do to fix the problem.” Bilbo said quietly. Anxiously, he checked on his lip. “I don’t…”

“It’s not for you to fix, Mr Bilbo.” Balin said. “It’s not your fault, but rather we are to blame. To think such awful behaviour could be happening right under our noses… It’s intolerable, and will no longer be stomached. We came here with peaceful intentions, and that’s what we are going to ensure happens. I hope you can forgive us for our mistakes.” 

“It’s not your fault, either.” Bilbo whispered. He hated to think that anyone blamed themselves for his discomfort, even if they were partially to blame. He just didn’t like the idea of anyone being irritated or upset because of him, whether it was intentional or otherwise. 

“Don’t make excuses for them, Mr Bilbo.” Balin shook his head. 

“Their actions will no longer be tolerated.” Dwalin cut in decisively. His tone held no room for arguments, and the harsh way he spoke made Bilbo’s back straighten. Bilbo didn’t think anyone would dare argue with him if he spoke like that to them. 

After that, the Dwarves gave him polite farewells and went on their way. They didn’t seem like they wished to watch Bilbo train their ponies as they had previously done, which was a nice show of trust that Bilbo appreciated. Their chat with him certainly gave him something interesting to think about while he worked. It was sort of comforting to know that not all the Dwarves – barring Thorin, of course – disliked him. Perhaps he had made a good impression, after all. These Dwarves seemed older and wiser than Thorin, though mostly through experience, so maybe they could convince the rest that Bilbo wasn’t out to harm Thorin in any way.

Unsurprisingly, Thorin came looking for him next. The Dwarven Prince looked incredibly flustered, as though he was in a rush. One of his braids had started to come undone, and even as he approached he was fixing his blue coat properly over his shoulders. “Bilbo!” He said as he came closer. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m alright.” Bilbo said, flushed as Thorin came to a stop before him.

“I cannot apologise enough for the actions of my kin.” Thorin said. “Their actions are inexcusable, and I feel absolutely awful about what happened on my watch.”

“It’s alright.” Bilbo said, holding up his holds placating. “You kin already came to speak with me this morning…”

Thorin let out a quiet, choked noise. “Who did?” He asked, distressed.

“A-ah, Dwalin, Balin and Gloin did.” Bilbo explained. “They just wanted to assure me that they’ll take care of any problems…”

Thorin let out a deep sigh. “I really must apologise.” He murmured. “I feel as though I ruined your night.”

Bilbo blinked rapidly, and lowered his hands. “You didn’t.” He said quietly. “You didn’t ruin it at all. I… I really enjoyed it, so don’t say that.” 

Those blue eyes of Thorin’s wavered when they lifted to watch Bilbo. Almost without thinking he reached out for Bilbo’s hands, but unthinkingly Bilbo flinched, and he drew them away again, looking troubled.

A strange feeling shot through Bilbo’s chest, and he quickly reached out to grasp both of Thorin’s hands in his own. “I don’t blame you,” he stressed, “so don’t be upset, alright? I don’t blame you.”

Thorin startled in Bilbo’s grip, but he didn’t pull away. A relieved look briefly crossed his face. “I’m thankful that you feel that way.” He said. “I was quite worried I’d ruined everything.”

Bilbo only shook his head. “I’m concerned you kin don’t like me, and I can’t figure out what it is I’ve done to offend them.” He said. “But I was glad to hear that that isn’t the case, even if your companions intimidate me a little.”

“I’m sorry about them. They only wish for the best.”

Bilbo gave him a sheepish look. “It’s alright, I know they mean well.” He said. “I’m just unused to their presence, is all.”

Thorin matched his smile. “I suppose they can take some getting used to.” He admitted. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Bilbo nodded.

A long sigh came from Thorin’s lips. “Alright, I believe you, then.” He said. “How is the training going?”

Bilbo was more than happy to launch into a description of his training. He explained his opinion on sterling’s behaviour when Thorin asked him off it, and got awfully embarrassed when Thorin expressed his admiration for Bilbo’s talents with the animals again. It seemed that Sterling had always been somewhat of a problematic animal, but only because he didn’t like socialising.

Thorin seemed glad to know that the training with that pony in particular was going as effectively as the training for the other ponies.

“Do you always wake this early in the morning?” Thorin asked as Bilbo took a mid-morning break. “You seem to have been out here for quite some time.”

“I often do if I know I have work to get done.” Bilbo explained. “It’s always quite quiet after a festival, which makes getting work done a lot faster. It’s a good idea to utilise that time, I think.”

Thorin nodded. “I did notice that.” He mused. “It’s very different to the atmosphere in Erebor after an event.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Thorin chuckled. “Yes, very much so.” He said. “I don’t believe Dwarves ever stop being loud and enthusiastic, not even when a feast ends.”

“Sounds entertaining.” Bilbo laughed. “Have you eaten breakfast this morning?”

Thorin shook his head. “No, I came to find you as soon as I woke.”

Bilbo smiled faintly, and stood. The sunlight had turned warm now that morning was progressing, and noise was starting to fill the forest again. He could hear the leaves of the trees being rustled by the gentle wind, and all the forest birds were starting to awaken and sing. Without hesitation, he held out his hand to Thorin once more. “Shall we go eat, then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, another half chapter ^____T I really hate posting them, but I can never get more than 2000 words finished these days T_T I want to do more, so hopefully I can before this story is complete.


	14. XI pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin come to an understanding.

The dining area was fairly empty considering the time of day when Bilbo and Thorin arrived at its entrance. There was food spread out across the long tables by the kitchen entrance, much of which was leftovers from the previous night, Bilbo was pleased to find. “I suppose we did make too much food again.” He said thoughtfully. 

“Seems so.” Thorin answered, amused at Bilbo’s quiet murmurings. “All the food at our feasts gets eaten; there’s hardly ever any leftovers.” 

Bilbo laughed quietly. “We always make too much.” He said. “Is there anything you want in particular? I can probably find you just about anything.”

Thorin shook his head. “I’m not fussed.” 

Even so, Bilbo made sure to choose foods he knew Thorin would like when he went to fetch two plates for breakfast. While Bilbo was content with fruit and grains and bread, he was sure Thorin would much prefer cooked meats and eggs that had been flavoured stronger than perhaps the Elves would have liked. With both plates in hand he found his way to where Thorin had found a seat at a table directly underneath a wide, bright shaft of sunlight. The dining hall was close enough to the surface that many tables were built under pavilions rather than the ceiling, but somewhere still underground.

“I’m thinking of taking the ponies out along the paths of the Greenwood soon.” Bilbo said as he placed the plates on the table and took a seat across from Thorin. He was surprised to find that Thorin had already fetched them both drinks, but was glad to know that Thorin had remembered he liked juice. “It might be a good experience for them.”

Thorin nodded. “Sounds interesting.” He said. “Will you test them in regards to their training?”

Bilbo nodded. “Yes, I want to see how well they respond to stimulus outside of a controlled area.” He explained. “They respond well enough to commands while in the field, but outside of the fence it will be different. I trust that my ponies will be able to listen and follow instructions easily enough, so the ponies from Erebor won’t be out of control.”

“I understand.” Thorin nodded. “It sounds like a good idea. I’ll speak to my kin about it when I next get the chance, but I’m sure that they’ll agree with what you’re saying.”

Bilbo hummed, and allowed himself a moment to eat breakfast. It was quite a peaceful morning, he thought, despite the conversations he’d already had with the Dwarves. The idea of exploring the forest again was exciting, and he hoped that Thorin would have the chance to accompany him. He still vividly remembered exploring the slopes of Erebor, and he hoped that Thorin would enjoy exploring the surrounding woods as much as Bilbo had enjoyed the mountain. 

_“Mellon, you are awake quite early this morning.”_

Bilbo jumped at the voice, eyes widening. Elros took a smooth seat beside him, looked as pristine and presentable as ever. Although the Elf’s eyes were fixed on Bilbo, he knew that Elros had undoubtedly assessed Thorin quite heavily before coming over. _“Good morning.”_ Bilbo said carefully.

Elros just shook his head. _“Do not worry, my dear. I understand your fears, but it is not this Dwarf we Elves are displeased with.”_

 _“You may think so, but… I don’t want my failures to affect anything between our races.”_ Bilbo said decisively. _“The Prince has always proved himself to be a good person to me, as have his close kin. They’ve already apologised, too.”_

 _“I see.”_ Elros hummed. He was quiet for a moment, and whether it was to give himself a chance at carefully wording his thoughts or to make Thorin uncomfortable, Bilbo wasn’t sure. _“You’ve never given me a reason to doubt your judgements before, so I shall not begin to now. But I must warn you, Bilbo, that the tension between the Dwarves and the Elves will only increase until the Prince can assert his position, lest something else drastic happens. You will be watched far more frequently than you realise, as shall he, from now on.”_

_“I understand.”_

Elros nodded once, and stood again. _“Be careful, then. I anguish at the thought of you being hurt, my dear, and not only for your sake either. You know how Galion can be…”_

Bilbo nodded. _“I don’t want him to get hurt, either, not after all he’s done for me. I love him dearly.”_

 _“I know.”_ A small smile came to Elros’s lips, one Bilbo had long since learned to recognise. Politely, he bowed his head. “I shall be off, then.”

Bilbo lowered his head once in return, and let out a soft sigh at Thorin’s inquisitive look. “He was just asking me to be careful.” He explained. “He worries.”

“I… I hope your companions don’t come to dislike me.” Thorin said carefully. “Though I wouldn’t blame them if they did.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I don’t believe they do.” He said. “Or at least, Elros doesn’t. He’s always been far calmer than Galion when they’re separated, but in either case it’s not Elros I’m concerned over.”

“Galion is your guardian.” Thorin stated.

“He is. He’s… Protective, to say the least. If he asked Prince Legolas to consider changing the rules of our agreement then I believe Legolas would try to. Even though they’re so different, Legolas and Galion both have the same goals in mind.”

Thorin was silent for a moment, and Bilbo feared that perhaps the ferocity of his Elves might scare him away. “Their attitude is admirable.” Thorin finally said, surprisingly Bilbo. “I hadn’t realised Elves could feel so deeply, not when their faces rarely betray anything other than complete composure.” 

Bilbo struggled to find the words he could feel dancing across the tip of his tongue. “I… I don’t believe they’ve always been like this.” He finally said. “Their concept of life and age is far different to our own, but with Hobbits around it’s as though they’re reminded of the fragility they don’t possess. Especially when we were young, it wasn’t uncommon for Faunts to become incredibly ill with sickness the Elves were unfamiliar with. Even if the Elves don’t understand morality in the same way we do, they understand suffering, and they hate it with a passion so great that I sometimes fear the overprotectiveness that arises from it.”

“There is still much for me to learn about other races.” Thorin murmured. “If only our people could see that we aren’t so different after all.”

“If only.” Bilbo smiled weakly. 

“Should I be concerned about anything? Or aware, perhaps?”

Bilbo shook his head. “I don’t believe you should be concerned about Elves that might act on my behalf.” He said. “My position as the last Thain’s son gives them some confidence that I’ll be able to handle myself, so I doubt they’ll step in unless something terribly bad happens.”

“Like last night.” Thorin said sourly.

“Like last night.” Bilbo agreed quickly, like ripping off a bandage. “But if any of your kin here were to verbally attack or upset a different Hobbit, I doubt the Elves would be so lenient. Even if it’s uncomfortable, I’d prefer to be the only one they target.”

“They shouldn’t target anyone.” Thorin growled. “It’s disgraceful.”

“It’s not completely unforgiveable.” Bilbo said quietly. “They don’t know us, don’t know the Elves or our traditions or our opinions. This is a chance for them to learn, and if they ignore that chance, then they are unforgiveable.” 

“I guess that’s true.” Thorin agreed. “I can’t see myself forgiving them either, even if they are my own kin. We’re long past due for a change in attitude.”

Bilbo laughed a little. “In either case, I believe we’ll be watched a little more thoroughly than before. I hope you don’t mind, Elves can be quite perceptive.”

Thorin shook his head. “It’s fine.” He said. “Expected. I admire their protectiveness over you, though you know I have no intent in harming you, do you not?”

“I know.” Bilbo reassured.

Thorin made a pleased noise, and nodded. “That’s all that really matters, then.” He said, content. “What do you plan to do today?”

“Train the ponies, mostly.” 

“I shall accompany you, then, if that is acceptable.”

Bilbo flushed right up to the tips of his ears, but nodded. Even with all the strain between their races Thorin still sought out his company, and it was a very warming thought. Bilbo had never met anyone like Thorin, and the more he got to know Thorin the more he found there was to like. 

And even though he was intimidated by the other Dwarves, he couldn’t find himself to be apprehensive around Thorin at all. If he were being honest with himself, it was just the opposite, actually.


	15. XII pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training progresses well.

“All I want you to do is to hold your hand out like this,” Bilbo explained as he demonstrated with his own arm, “and that should signal the ponies to come to the side from which you extend it.”

Thorin nodded, listening intently. The ponies had already been gathered in the field for the day, and Bilbo had spent much of the morning after second breakfast running them through the commands they already knew. The way in which the orders were carried out was important – for one, their attention had to be on the person giving the command, and single hand gestures didn’t always do the trick. Instead he taught Thorin to whistle, and in doing so he appropriately garnered the interest of the ponies who had come to expect the sound from Bilbo.

Now that they were aware of Thorin’s presence, too, they should theoretically follow the same commands. 

“Just like this, right?” Thorin asked, eyes inquisitive as he cast Bilbo a small glance.

Bilbo nodded, and turned his gaze out onto the ponies. Thorin had lifted his right hand, and already the ponies had begun to gather at the corresponding side of the field. Even as he watched they rounded the field to come up on Thorin’s right side, nickering quietly amongst themselves.

“That’s incredible.” Thorin said, eyebrows raised in surprise as he lowered his palm to meet Ruby’s prying nose. “I’m surprised they all followed such an unassuming gesture so neatly.”

Bilbo grinned at the praise. “They’ve been working very hard.” He said. From behind him Sterling appeared, pressing his dark forehead against Bilbo’s shoulder quietly. Bilbo couldn’t help but divert his attention to the silent pony, obligingly stroking flat his weather-roughened fur. 

“Sterling seems to have taken quite a liking for you.” Thorin remarked. “How strange.”

“Strange?”

“He’s never shown interest in others before; Dwarven, pony or otherwise. That is why I was surprised those in Erebor sent him over with these two.” He glanced back at Shale and Ruby, both of whom had crept closer in search of Thorin’s attention. “I was worried he would resist your training.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry.” Bilbo simply shook his head. “Sterling just likes his solitude, that’s all. He likes his own company, and learns best on his own.”

“Why do you think that is so?” Thorin asked curiously. “The other ponies have always worked best when with the entire herd.”

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully. “Well,” he began, “I think Sterling appreciates the time to work through the commands on his own. Don’t get me wrong, he hasn’t shown any disinclination in regards to socialising with both the Erebor ponies and the Greenwood ones, but he likes to be alone. When I instruct him on his own he learns just as quickly as the others, so it’s not too much trouble. I enjoy spending time with him.”

Thorin chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.” He said. “I’ve never seen Sterling respond to anyone in the way he responds to you. It’s refreshing.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“What else can the ponies do?”

Bilbo hummed again. “I’ve been teaching them travelling formations.” He said. “Though they are Elvish in design, so if they need to be modified drastically you’ll have to tell me sooner or later.”

Thorin nodded.

“Essentially, much of their training revolves around following and executing changes in position while travelling.” Bilbo continued. “For example, if perhaps the two ponies at the rear of the string need to be moved forwards, then one must teach them a command that they will follow while the others disregard it.”

“That sounds difficult.” Thorin mused. “Is it something the Elves commonly teach their steeds?”

Bilbo nodded. “Is it different for the Dwarves?”

“Quite.” Thorin chuckled. “We teach our animals to follow physical directions – a tug on the reins, or something similar. They follow verbal commands too, but on the field it’s up to the rider to command the animal. All the animal has to do is follow commands.”

“Oh, that is quite different.”

Thorin nodded in agreement. “It suits the way we approach a battle in the same way Elvish commands suit their own battle approach.”

“That does make sense.” Bilbo mused. “I’ve never given it much thought, if I’m being perfectly honest. I’ve never been in a battle.”

Thorin’s eyebrows rose again. “Have you not?”

“Not unless you count the Fell Winter.” Bilbo said. “Why, the first time I properly left the Greenwood was to visit Erebor, you know. We Hobbits aren’t suited to fighting!”

“I see.” Thorin answered, amused. “Well, you certainly seem suited to pony training.”

“I should hope so.” Bilbo laughed quietly. “I wouldn’t want to let King Thranduil down.”

Thorin smiled to himself. “I’m glad I met you.” He said unexpectedly. He had a rather fond expression on his face all of a sudden, and the smile he turned to Bilbo a moment later was as charming as mid-morning sunshine. 

Bilbo was sure he had never seen Thorin look so handsome, and he just knew his entire face had turned red all the way up to the tips of his pointed ears. “I-I’m glad that I met you too!” He exclaimed in a rush, eyes wide. He felt incredibly flustered at the admission, but it was a light feeling, one that wasn’t as heavy as one might assume. “I really am.”

It was perhaps one of the most bashful things he’d ever admitted.

 

Halfway through the week, Bilbo’s presence was requested by the King. At first Bilbo believed that perhaps something bad had happened – the tension between the Elves and Dwarves were still heavy, but he wasn’t dull enough to realise that they were being watched at all times for any negative behaviour. He’d caught Dwarves watching him far too many times without any proper reason to, but other Dwarves – Dwarves like Dwalin and Balin, for example – were always quick to interject themselves, thus resolving any conflict before it began.

If they were not present to do so, than it was an Elf that Bilbo found suddenly occupying his attention. He was grateful for the diversions, if nothing else. Without any conflict to add fuel to the fire, it seemed that perhaps the tension would eventually simmer into nothingness and sought itself out.

Thankfully, the King had only wanted a progress report on the training. While Prince Oakenshield had been regularly sending back ravens to Erebor with the same details, it was up to Bilbo to inform the King of what had been happening. The meeting only took an hour or so, but Thranduil was also concerned with the relations between the Dwarves and the Hobbits, and Bilbo had had no choice but to explain everything that had happened.

Thranduil’s expressions were the hardest to comprehend, at times, even more so than the other Elves Bilbo was close with. His expression was always temperately delicate, though there was a harshness to his features that conveyed the accumulated years he had. He was a powerful person, and more so than anything it showed in his eyes. When Bilbo thought of Legolas’s eyes eventually turning into the eyes his father had, he was overcome by an unexplainable feeling of sadness. Although Bilbo admired Thranduil greatly, he thought that perhaps there was something lurking beneath his skin that craved safety and comfort.

Of course, he’d never say any of his musings aloud. 

Regardless, Thranduil showed some interest in the relations Bilbo was having with the Dwarves. He wouldn’t interfere, Bilbo knew, but it was something that he’d keep his eye on until the Dwarves took their leave. Bilbo hoped that it didn’t put any more unnecessary tension on the situation at hand.

At the end of the week, Bilbo found himself with the opportunity to eat supper with Thorin. They sat together in a small corner of the dining hall to eat, and took a moment to catch up on the week’s events. Bilbo was pleased to hear that the messages from the ravens coming back from Erebor were all positive in nature. The pony training was progressing well, and soon enough they would be ready for longer test runs in proper situations.

“I inquired about taking them outside of the training fields, too,” Thorin had mentioned, “and it was agreed that your proposal was a good idea.”

Bilbo couldn’t wait to take the ponies out. He wouldn’t take them far, perhaps only to the nearest clear-water creek, but it was still an exciting thought. Thorin seemed interested in going, too, which was also quite thrilling. It was like a small adventure, was it not? He’d always wanted to go on an adventure.

After dinner that evening, they took a stroll back out into the pony fields. Bilbo had let the animals roam free that night; it was a calm evening with a gentle, warm breeze and stars bright enough to offer ample light so that they would not get spooked. The ponies were quiet and hardly seemed to notice them when they took a seat on one of the protruding tree roots fashioned into a bench that the Elves seemed to favour making.

Bilbo couldn’t quite remember what they had started talking about, but eventually he fell asleep to Thorin’s voice telling him of all the great Dwarven stories he knew. When he’d half-woken, it was to find that he had curled up against Thorin’s side in search of warmth. Thorin’s cheek was pressed against the top of his hands, and one of Thorin’s hands, so large and heavy, had fallen to rest on Bilbo’s waist. It was so warm and comforting that Bilbo’s eyes had slipped closed once more, without a single care in the world.


	16. XII pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conflict begins to arise again.

Eventually, however, gentle hands did come to wake him properly. For a moment he resisted waking, but not for long. When he opened his eyes he found that it was Legolas leaning over him, his long, pale hair casting light shadows across his face from where it captured moonlight. 

“Come now, Bilbo.” Legolas murmured quietly. He held onto Bilbo’s elbow loosely and guided him to his feet. “It’s time for bed, is it not?”

Sleepily, Bilbo glanced over his shoulder at Thorin. The Dwarven Prince had started to rise, and his eyes, darkened by sleep, were opening. He seemed disorientated for a moment, and Bilbo was struck by a small sense of concern that brought forth a worried murmur from his lips.

“None of that, now.” Legolas said. He straightened his back, and pressed his hand against Bilbo’s shoulder for a moment. “I’ll escort the Prince back to his quarters.”

“Legolas-”

But the Elf just shook his head. There was a look in his eyes that Bilbo was too tired to comprehend, but it wasn’t one that frightened him. It made him apprehensive, perhaps, but certainly not frightened. And although Thorin appeared apprehensive at the concept of being alone with the Elven Prince, he did not protest.

So, although reluctantly, Bilbo returned to his room. He was confident that Legolas wouldn’t do anything to harm Thorin, and he knew that Legolas wouldn’t insult or try to chase Thorin off, either, so for now he let it be. Only after giving Thorin as best a reassuring smile as he could did he leave.

In the morning, Thorin was nowhere to be found. Although it wasn’t a particularly strange thing, Bilbo was somewhat worried. He didn’t know what Legolas had wished to speak to Thorin so privately about, but realistically he knew it must involve him in some way or shape. By the time second breakfast came, however, soon followed by elevenses – a meal Bilbo often ignored, though there were still Hobbits who liked to snack at that time of the day – Thorin did appear.

“Prince Legolas didn’t say anything offhandedly, did he?”

“Calm your nerves, Bilbo,” Thorin chuckled, “your friend did nothing to insult me.”

“What did he want, then?” Bilbo asked, eyebrows drawn up in concern. “If you are able to tell me, I mean…”

“We have similar interests.” Thorin said, giving Bilbo a meaningful glance. “That is all.”

Although he wasn’t quite sure what Thorin meant by that, Bilbo still felt himself turning red. Thorin only seemed amused by Bilbo’s flustering, but in either case Bilbo felt a little more soothed about the entire situation. If neither Thorin nor Legolas seemed disturbed by what had happened, then perhaps it wasn’t as bad as he had briefly imagined it to be.

That afternoon, a new raven was sent in from Erebor. It seemed that Erebor’s sister colony from the Iron Hills was interested in the sudden developments between the two races. Bilbo knew less about the Iron Hills than he did Erebor, but when Thorin heard of it his face had twisted.

“Those from the Iron Hills are even more stubborn than those from Erebor.” He had explained when Bilbo had given him a questioning glance. “They take great pride in our race, and their dislike for Elves and all things Elvish runs far deeper than any other. They do not have any trading connections with Elves – unless run through another Dwarven citadel first – and they as such have never acclimatised to Elvish wears or the presence of Elves in everyday life. I fear that they will send Dain, and he is quite difficult to deal with.”

“What are we to do, then?”

Thorin thought for a moment. “If it is Dain they send to test the hospitality of Elves and Hobbits, then perhaps we’ll have a challenge on our hands.”

“And if that is so?”

Thorin sighed. “As far as hierarchy is concerned, it is the Durin line – my bloodline – that reigns over Dain’s. That is why my younger sister, Dis, currently resides in the Iron Hills. I know my word weighs heavier than his, but he holds enough sway to worry me.” Anxiously, Thorin rubbed the back of his neck. If anyone else had been around Bilbo doubted he would have allowed himself such a gesture. “I fear that he’ll discredit you and all your hard work due to nothing more than his stubbornness.”

Bilbo smiled wanly. “I’ll have to prove him wrong, then.”

A proud twinkle came to Thorin’s eyes. “I suppose you’ll have to, yes.”

 

Unfortunately for some, it was Dain that rode across the plains between Esgaroth and the Greenwood. Bilbo, Thorin, and a small company of both Elves and Dwarves rode out to meet them at the entrance to the Elven forest. Bilbo had expected Legolas to ride out with them, but it was strange for Galion to come, too.

He was still feeling overprotective, it seems. Bilbo didn’t particularly blame him.

They’d taken a few of the ponies out on this trip for the Dwarves and Bilbo to ride. Bilbo had already impressed the Dwarves that accompanied them with his handling of Sterling, who currently carried Thorin. Bilbo himself had taken Myrtle because he trusted her quite a lot. She always behaved quite spectacularly while out, as well. She was a good choice to lead the Erebor ponies.

Dain, predictably, ignored all but his fellow Dwarves. Thorin spared him a brief look before urging Sterling forwards to meet the Rams the Dwarves from the Iron Hills rode on. The harsh burst of Khuzdul that resulted from the following conversation were quite intimidating. 

_“What do you think they’re speaking about?”_ Bilbo asked Galion hesitantly.

Galion had long since bristled. His expression was stiff, and his grip on his horse’s reins was tight. _“Nothing good.”_

Bilbo only sighed. First meetings didn’t ever seem to go smoothly, of late, and as the shouts only got louder and angrier he knew this meeting would be no different.


	17. XIII pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo doesn't want to let Dain overrun him.

Dain was dismissive as he glanced Bilbo over. His loud arguments with Thorin had been interrupted by the sudden silence of his annoyed stare, and Bilbo was starting to think that it didn’t, in fact, mean that he might be prepared to listen now. It was unsettling to have such harsh eyes settle on him, but Bilbo refused to let himself bow down. Instead, he straightened his back, and endured it.

After a moment, Dain turned back to scoff at Thorin in a way that Bilbo found was quite insulting. He himself bristled at Dain’s contemptuous tone, but Thorin was quick to snap back at his companion. A furrow had appeared in Thorin’s brow, and his expression was starting to become quite frustrated. Bilbo didn’t blame him. Although he’d known Dain for less than an hour he could already tell Dain was a pain to deal with. 

Unexpectedly, Dain pulled away from Thorin. “Halfling,” he shouted, ignoring the way Galion stiffened and stepped in front of Dain’s path, “you seem incapable of even climbing onto a pony without a stepping stool. How do you think you could possibly train ponies to a Dwarven standard?”

“Dain!” Thorin growled, pulling Sterling around. “Hold your tongue!”

Bilbo just frowned. “This conversation proves nothing but how little your mind is.” He said without thinking. Of course, he only realised just how insulting his words were when Dain’s face twisted in outrage. “If you want to test my skills,” he rushed to continue, “then I’m willing to show you. Do not think so little of me yet, Dwarf from the Iron Hills.”

Dain prickled at the challenge, and for a moment Bilbo wondered if he’d made the right choice. The Dwarf only levelled his harsh glare on Bilbo, and nodded his head once. “Let’s see that you do, Halfling.” He snarled. “I’d like to right this disgraceful mistake as quickly as possible.”

 

“Bilbo, you mustn’t feel the need to do anything drastic.” Thorin said. He watched Bilbo with worried eyes, but made no move to stop him from saddling Myrtle properly. “Dain is incredibly stubborn, but that doesn’t mean you need to prove yourself to him.”

“It’s not like that.” Bilbo sighed. “I do have to prove myself, Prince Oakenshield.”

“Just Thorin.” The Prince groaned. “You already have proven yourself.”

“To who? To you?”

“To me and my kin.”

“Yes, but there are still others who doubt me.” He said, frowning. “There always will be, and if in doing this there are less who would scorn upon Halflings then so be it.”

“Don’t call yourself that.” Thorin said. “It doesn’t sound right.”

Bilbo offered him a weak smile. “Thank you,” he said, “but I still must do it. I don’t think it shall be too hard, not if it’s just instructing the ponies. You haven’t any idea about what Dain might have in mind, do you? He is your kin.”

Thorin hummed, frowning. “He’ll most likely have you ride the ponies.” He murmured. “Dain doesn’t appreciate demonstrations or tactics – he prefers action and battle.”

“B-battle?”

“I won’t let him do anything like that.” Thorin said firmly, shaking his head. “Trust me in that, Bilbo.”

“I do.” Bilbo assured him. “I know you won’t let any of your kin go too far, but there comes a time when I need to stick up for mine, as well. What better time than now?” 

Thorin sighed. He reached forwards to take Bilbo’s cheeks in his large hands almost without thinking and drew their foreheads together. His eyes were closed. 

Instinctively, Bilbo closed his own as well. Thorin’s breath was warm but unobtrusive on his face, and despite the closeness of the situation he didn’t feel the urge to pull away in embarrassment. Like this, it was easy to focus on the feeling of Thorin’s hands against his face. The pads of his fingers were calloused from work, and his palms felt rougher against Bilbo’s skin than they did when pressed again Bilbo’s own hands. Just gently, almost as though it were an afterthought, Thorin’s thumbs rubbed against the curve of Bilbo’s cheeks. 

“Just promise me you’ll be careful.” Thorin eventually murmured. His thumbs moved up and down Bilbo’s cheeks once more. “I hate to think that you may be hurt because of Dain’s foolishness.” 

Bilbo made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I will.” He promised.

Only after a moment did Thorin reluctantly withdraw his hands and straighten his back. “I’m going to talk to Dain once more.” He said. “I’ll speak to later this evening, will I not?”

Bilbo nodded. He watched Thorin leave the stables feeling a little forlorn, but he quickly shook the feeling off and returned to preparing Myrtle. She wasn’t the fondest of the saddle Bilbo used for more difficult riding (like the kind he anticipated Dain to expect) but she tolerated it well. 

Galion escorted him back out of the Greenwood. It didn’t take long, not with such an experienced Elf with him. Bilbo had had to return to get Myrtle’s saddle, but he was glad he had taken the time to. Even if she wasn’t fond of it, it was quite easy to ride in, and expertly made as well. 

“I don’t like this Dwarf much.” Galion murmured. “He’s the rudest of them all.”

“Yes, well,” Bilbo sighed, “there isn’t much we can do to change that. It’s becoming tiring to be so underestimated in something as mundane as pony training.” 

Galion only frowned. He’d stuck close by Bilbo the entire ride back, though he’d allowed Bilbo and Thorin a moment of privacy in the stables. Although Bilbo had no doubt Galion had listened in, he knew that the Elf wouldn’t ever bring up anything Thorin had said unless he truly had a problem with it. Elves and their heightened senses couldn’t help but overhear things, sometimes, but to make up for it they were endlessly polite. It was a strange give-and-take, but it worked. 

“Is that your animal of choice?” Dain sneered. He still sat atop his restless ram, and hardly seemed to have moved since Bilbo returned to the stables briefly.

Bilbo didn’t dignify him with an answer. Instead he only cast Galion a last glance before urging Myrtle forwards. She moved without complaint, though she gave the rams a wide berth. Bilbo didn’t blame her – those large horns the rams sported looked terrifying.

Dain made a dismissive noise. “Try to keep up, Halfling.” He said before, without warning, he spurred his ram forwards. The animal picked up straight into a run that was faster and heavier than Bilbo expected. He swiftly prompted Myrtle into action, and just like that she took off across the plain.


	18. XIII pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conflict occurs.

Wind tore at Bilbo’s hair as he urged Myrtle to run faster. He was suddenly glad he’d worn a circlet, or else his hair would have obscured his eyes. 

Myrtle wasn’t his fastest pony, but her stamina was by far the best. While Bilbo didn’t know much about the mountain rams, he knew that Dain’s wouldn’t be able to keep up such a fast speed for nearly as long as Myrtle. Bilbo still didn’t know what it was that Dain wanted him to prove, but he’d said to keep up, and keeping up is what Bilbo was going to do. 

Across the plain, Dain turned sharply to the left. Bilbo wasn’t familiar with these plains at all, but he knew they were incredibly rocky and uneven when one strayed off the trodden path, and he worried for Myrtle’s hooves and legs. A broken ankle, after all, could not be easily fixed, and Bilbo knew what happened to horses and ponies that broke their bones. Regardless, he urged Myrtle on after Dain’s ram with murmured commands that she deftly and expertly followed. 

It was hard to see when Dain and the rams changed directions. The wind was going against them and Bilbo had no choice but to lift a hand to shield his eyes from dirt and dust flying through the air. When the wind changed and he could peel open an eye, he found that there were two more riderless rams falling into formation behind Dain. Was that what he wanted Bilbo to do, too? He hadn’t planned on taking any other pony than Myrtle out into these plains, and although Sterling and a few of the other ponies were present Bilbo didn’t know how well he’d be able to lead them like this.

Regardless, he steered Myrtle on. She didn’t protest at the rough terrain and expertly avoided all the dips and sharp bumps in the ground. For the moment, Bilbo put aside his worries for Myrtle’s legs, and instead focused on Dain. He had no doubt that Myrtle would be able to take care of herself, at least for now. Dain was far more concerning.

The way he handled the rams was incredibly intimidating, to say the least. He was loud in his shouts, and he jerked the ram he rode around far harder than Bilbo would have ever dared to. His style was completely Dwarvish, and bordered on brutish. Bilbo didn’t like the sight of it, and it left him feeling uncomfortable, as though a rock had settled in his stomach. It wasn’t right to treat animals so roughly, even if it produced the right results. Bilbo must preferred his own training style, and somehow he was going to have to show Dain that. All the other Dwarves that doubted him, too. 

_“Faster, mellon, if you can.”_ Bilbo murmured to her as loudly as the wind would allow. Myrtle tossed her head once before she began to run faster. The gap between her and Dain’s rams soon began to lessen, and Bilbo wasn’t sure if it was because Myrtle was speeding up or if Dain was beginning to slow down. 

Suddenly, Bilbo heard the distant sound of shouts. He jerked his head around and saw that Sterling had shaken free from his reins, as had a second pony from the Greenwood that Bilbo recognised as Maisy. He didn’t know what had spooked them, but Sterling took the lead as he galloped towards Bilbo and Myrtle at full speed. Bilbo hastily threw up his hand so that they could see his commands, and he almost cried out with relief when they instantly moved to follow it. Soon enough he had Sterling restlessly running on his right and Maisy keeping pace on his left.

It made him anxious to have so many of his ponies exposed like this. Still he chased after Dain, copying his movements and the movements of his rams. When the ram on the right was directed away, Bilbo similarly steered Maisy down a different path. Soon enough they approached a ridge, and fearful for his ponies and their hooves, Bilbo changed directions. The mountain rams were used to terrain much more difficult than this, but his animals were different, and he would not risk their health for Dain’s foolish test.

It was easy to show off his ponies when he stopped worrying about matching Dain’s path. Instead he directed his ponies his way – around the ridge, and not over it. While the rams focused on their footwork Bilbo’s ponies gathered speed and regrouped, and within moments they’d overtaken Dain. A strange sense of smugness filled him at that, and he gently began to ease up on the speed. He directed Sterling closer to avoid a line of jagged rocks, and only after he was sure the frazzled pony was alright did he turn back around. 

Abruptly, the wretched sound of war horns blasted through the plain. Sterling let out a loud whinny and reared up, and in fear Myrtle did the same. Bilbo cried out as he was almost thrown from the saddle, and gripped tight fistfuls of Myrtle’s mane to steady himself. A wave of dark, blundering shapes burst forth from the surrounding forest edge, and almost instantly Bilbo was overwhelmed by the stench of Orcs. 

He’d never seen them before, and he’d never wanted to.

 _“Turn around!”_ He shouted, pulling on Myrtle’s mane. _“Around, mellon, around!”_

Myrtle let out a loud noise before frightfully following the command. Maisy did too, but with a sinking feeling Bilbo realised that he hadn’t yet taught Sterling that command. The pony was darting back and forth, and frantically Bilbo tried to catch his attention. His mind raced through the commands he was sure Sterling with ease, and with a start he realised that Sterling would understand “follow”, and so he shouted it.

Howling soon filled the air, and Bilbo’s blood ran cold. Like the echoing of a bell he heard those howls in his head, as though they were from a dream. He’d heard them before, when he was just a child, and dimly it brought a thick lump to his throat. 

Wargs.

They were faster than ponies, and with a frightened whine Bilbo urged his animals on faster. A bite from a Warg would undoubtedly kill a pony, if their claws didn’t tear them apart first. He couldn’t bear the thought of any of his ponies being hurt, not even the ones from Erebor. 

“Bilbo!” A panicky voice called. Bilbo’s head whipped up, and he saw that Galion was already galloping towards him on his stallion. A strange feeling shot through Bilbo at the sight of him, a mixture of relief and desperation, but his attention was quickly diverted. Dain and his rams had already been reached by the Orcs, but Dain was swinging an axe around like he didn’t even care. Bilbo wasn’t armed, and he hadn’t been aware that Dain had been, either. 

When he heard a frightened scream, the world seemed to snap into slow motion. Weakly, Bilbo realised that the scream was his own, but it wasn’t a thought that registered until after a Warg tackled him off of Myrtle. When the world snapped back into place he found himself face-to-face with the snapping jaws of the Warg. Rows of sharp, pointed teeth clicked in front of his face, and he screamed against as they snagged onto his shoulder. He felt blood bloom against his skin, and the scent of it reminded him of cold, harsh snow.

The Warg suddenly let out a high pitched whine, and then it collapsed. The air rushed out of Bilbo’s lungs and against the weight of the limp Warg he couldn’t hold himself upright. His head bounced against the ground once, and then everything went dark.


	19. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Injuries.

Bilbo must have only been out for a moment because when his eyes cracked open he found himself suffocated by the weight of the Warg and its tangled, coarse fur. He let out a strangled moan as pain rocketed down his spine, and even when he squirmed and thrashed he couldn’t get the motionless Warg to move. The weight of it was starting to crush his legs and each breath was harder to suck in. 

Suddenly, the animal was heaved off of him and tossed aside. Bilbo gasped in pain as the pressure was lifted off of him. His head spun as he tried to inhale oxygen, but it got stuck in his throat, and for a moment he was sure he was going to pass out again. He’d never felt so light-headed and dizzy.

But then a hand was in his hair, cradling his head, pulling him upright. Bilbo floundered, thinking the worst, and let out a pitched whimper than he hadn’t realised came from him until it left his lips. His ears were still ringing from the impact of the Warg, but even through the static noise he could make out frightened, Elvish words being shouted at him.

He stilled when he recognised Galion’s voice. The Elf’s long auburn hair fell across Bilbo’s face in gentle wisps and just faintly, a memory was pulled from the very far reaches of his mind. It was from when he was younger, when he was just a child, and his nights were plagued with howling wolves and snow that never seemed to stop. He’d wake up and find himself not trapped under a frozen snow drift blown in through his front door, but rather in Galion’s arms, warm and safe and comforted. Unbidden, the ghost of Galion’s scent rose in his memory, a faint impression of forest leaves and warm wine and something undeniably fresh and light. 

Again, this time, he smelt the same thing. While it was tinged with open air and fright, it was still there, a strong undercurrent of familiarity and something that meant “home”.

_“Bilbo, mellon, please look at me. I’m right here. Can you hear my voice?”_

Galion’s fingers touched his face fervently, pushing his hair back to reveal Bilbo’s unfocused eyes. Bilbo tried to speak but no commands were going any further than his thoughts. He whined again, but Galion only hushed him, and bundled him closer.

 _“Don’t strain yourself, mellon,”_ Galion murmured anxiously, _“you’re going to be alright. I promised the moment I agreed to care for you that I would- that I would never let you get hurt… I’m so sorry Bilbo…”_

He had never once heard Galion speak in the tone he spoke in. He sounded so frightened, so much so that there was an undeniable tremble in his voice Bilbo had never heard before. It sent chills racing through his blood, and filled his head with an uncomfortable heaviness that was almost like the feeling he got when he knew he’d disappointed Galion or Elros. He felt the need to apologise to the Elf, but his lips wouldn’t move, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

 _“I’m sorry, Bilbo.”_ Galion murmured once more, before he swiftly heaved Bilbo up into his arms. Bilbo let out a choked scream as pain ricocheted through his shoulder. It was so blinding that it completely eclipsed the pain in his legs. He knew once of his knees had to be swelling – he could feel it numbly pulsing – but the drying blood on his shoulder clearly stood out.

He couldn’t keep his eyes open after that.

 

He woke in fitful bursts for what seemed like weeks, but when his eyes opened and stayed open, he knew it must have only been a day or two, at the most. He’d had awful nightmares when he slept, and the images of bellowing Orcs and the blood-stained maws of Wargs and Dwarves that swung axes at his head plagued him. He felt sweaty and dirty, and his shoulder itched like crazy. More than that was the dryness in his throat and his sudden urgency for the bathroom.

A strangled groan came from his throat as he cracked open his eyes. They were stuck together with gunk from sleep as though he’d been crying, but it wasn’t so hard to believe that he might have been. He tried to sit up, but every muscle in his body complained, and he settled for forcing his eyes open. He didn’t recognise the room he was in, at first, but after a moment he realised it was the infirmary. 

Sunlight streamed in from wide, rectangular windows spaced across the wall through which Bilbo had a glaringly beautiful view of the forest, but it was so bright that his eyes ached. He wished someone had pulled the curtains shut, but any other time he wouldn’t have found the light to be bothersome. The other patient beds were all empty save for his own, but it wasn’t too hard to believe that anyone else who may have been injured had already been healed. 

“Galion…” He called weakly. His voice wasn’t even loud enough to cause an echo in the empty room, and as a cough built in his dry throat he tried again. “Galion.”

He only had to wait a moment before the infirmary doors were flung open and Galion’s familiar figure stalked in in a flurry of hurried steps and long sleeves. His shoulders were set straight with tension, and his face was grim. Bilbo had only ever seen colours of sleep-deprivation under Galion’s eyes a handful of times, but they were there on his face standing out stark against his usually flawless skin. 

He looked as exhausted as Bilbo felt. 

“Are you alright?” Bilbo croaked. He tried to sit up but his shoulder protested so harshly that he felt his face twist.

“It should be me asking you that, _mellon,_ and not the other way around.” Galion murmured. He gently guided Bilbo back down to rest, and delicately gripped Bilbo’s hand between his own. 

“What happened?”

Galion’s lips pressed into a thin line. “A pack of Orcs tracked Dain over from the Iron Hills.” He said quietly. “They attacked while you were out on the plain.”

Bilbo felt himself go pale. Galion lifted a comforting hand to card through his hair once, settling it away from his sweaty forehead. “Was anyone hurt?” He asked, voice small. 

Galion shook his head. “Not substantially, no.” He said quietly. “Just you.”

Bilbo lowered his eyes as a rush of shame went through him. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” He whispered. “I guess I’m not suited for adventuring, after all.”

“It’s not that, Bilbo.” Galion sighed. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, and gently warmed Bilbo’s hand. “There was nothing more you could have done. I don’t believe the blame falls on you, or even Thorin.”

Bilbo watched his guardian with wavering eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, either.” He said.

Galion tensed, and let out a deep breath all in one go. “I can’t help but blame myself.” He whispered. “It is my duty to protect you from harm; I swore it. The day I held you in my arms as a babe I knew I would never let anything happen to you, and yet…”

A lump formed in Bilbo’s throat, and he closed his eyes. “It’s not your fault.” He repeated. He’d say it as many times as he needed to until Galion believed him. He wanted his normal Galion back, the one that jested and smiled unconditionally and smelled faintly of wine. This Galion didn’t smell of anything.

Galion only sighed. “Regardless, you were quite injured.” He said.

Bilbo glanced at his shoulder. It was wrapped tightly in several layers of bandages and while they looked fresh he knew there was a horrid wound under there somewhere. “Is it bad?” He asked quietly.

Another sigh came from the tired Elf. “Moderately so.” He said. It was like he was reciting a lesson from his youth; he was so detached from it that Bilbo thought he might still be in shock or disbelief. “Your knee is swollen and bruised, but not broken. You have quite the collection of bruises, now, including an awful one on the back of your head. The wound you have there is all but healed, now… We worried for your mind, for a bit. Hits to the head rarely ever leave without a mark.”

“And… and my shoulder?”

“The Warg’s teeth tore through your tendons and muscles, and the bone was dislocated. We healed the wounds as best we could, but it’s going to take some time to close up. You’ll need to do physical therapy to build up the muscle again.”

Bilbo glanced down. It sounded bad, but he trusted the Elves. Their medicine was the best and most efficient, and he knew that if Galion said they’d tried their best then they had. 

“It’s going to scar, Bilbo.” Galion said. He’d hidden his face from Bilbo’s view. “Your shoulder, the skin is going to be marred forever. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

The thought of such a hideous scar made Bilbo’s stomach drop, but he just shook his head. “That doesn’t matter.” He said. “It’ll only be skin-deep.”

Galion offered him a waning smile. It looked forced.

“Are the ponies alright?” Bilbo asked next. “Sterling was…”

“They’re alright.” Galion said. “Spooked, but alright. They’re in the stables now. I think they miss you.”

A wave of relief washed over Bilbo. “I’m glad.” He said. “Is Sterling alright?”

“He… He was injured,” Galion began, “but he’ll live.”

Bilbo jerked, eyes wide. He made to get up, but Galion urged him down again. “I have to check on them.” Bilbo said. “How was he injured?”

“A Warg sunk its claws into Sterling’s flank.” Galion said. “But the wound wasn’t deep, and Sterling kicked its ribs in. It’ll scar, but it doesn’t affect his running. It was Sterling that kicked the Warg off of you, too.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Was it?”

Galion nodded. “The kick was strong enough to kill the Warg. Utterly crushed its skull.”

Bilbo hummed. He didn’t know why Sterling had done that. Perhaps the pony was fonder of him than Bilbo had originally thought. “Is Thorin alright?” He finally asked.

“He’s fine.” Galion said. “Quite anxious to see you.”

Bilbo shivered. He could feel sweat drying on his back, and he knew he must smell horrid. He felt vulnerable and shaky, and his eyelids were becoming heavy. “Not like this.” He said. 

Galion nodded again. “I know.” He soothed. His hands lingered around Bilbo’s for a moment, before he sighed once more and stood. “I’ll fetch you some water and your medicine, so try not to move around too much, alright? You worry me far too much as it is.”

Bilbo laughed weakly. The old Galion was slowly returning, it seemed.

 

When Bilbo could stand without pulling on his healing shoulder, he was more than ready for a bath. While he had to be careful with his bandages – and especially his healing head wound – he found that the feeling of being clean was well worth it. He luxuriated in being able to clean under his nails and behind his ears. He’d never take a bath for granted again.

His appetite slowly returned, too. His throat was too raw to eat much more than soups and pureed vegetables for a few days, but eventually he could eat his breads and pastries again without any difficulty. 

Even more than bathing and eating, however, was his desire to visit the pony fields. Galion was adamant that his injuries were far too exposed for him to move so frequently, but Bilbo was insistent. Even if his arm was in a sling and his head was bandaged tightly with gauze, he wanted to see his ponies. He knew they were growing restless without him, as Galion had said as such. It was cruel to keep them apart for so long, and after pouting at Galion for long enough, the Elf had finally relented.

Although it was dark, Galion still helped Bilbo stumble his way to the stables. He made displeased expressions the entire way there, but he stopped every time Bilbo gave him an apologetic glance. Galion, more than anyone, understood the bond Bilbo had with the animals. After something like this, it was only reasonable to expect that Bilbo would want to see them again. He had to make sure they were alright.

Some of the ponies were asleep in their pens when he entered the stables, but the animals that had been running on the plain with him were wide awake and pacing anxiously. He approached Maisy first – she was the closest – and allowed himself several minutes to pet her and comfort her. Myrtle was next; she impatiently tossed her head and pressed against the pen’s gate, straining her neck out into Bilbo’s hand. He murmured Elvish comforts to her, and promised to braid her mane against as soon as he had use of both his hands. It took her much longer to settle, and Bilbo knew that he’d have to spend more one-on-one time with her in the coming days.

Sterling was at the back of his pen, hidden amongst the shadows the stable walls cast. Even so, Bilbo could see his injured flank. Four jagged claw marks raked down through the flesh, parting the fur until only skin, red raw and scabbing, was visible. It looked painful, but Sterling didn’t flinch when he walked, so Bilbo knew it mustn’t bother him too much. 

“He won’t let anyone approach him.” Galion murmured. “He gets too agitated, and we feared it would aggravate his injuries. Prince Oakenshield tried, and the animal allowed him to restock the feed and water, but that’s all. We haven’t been able to bath him yet, either.”

Bilbo frowned. “Will you help me unlatch the gate?”

Galion gave him a disapproving look but did as Bilbo had asked.

Sterling tossed his head once, clearly in discomfort, but Bilbo stepped forwards anyway. When the pony caught sight of him, his fidgeting stopped, and he cautiously stepped forwards. Bilbo reached out his free hand to rub Sterling’s nose. The pony snorted once, before stepping forwards. Bilbo was unintentionally pushed back and Galion jumped forwards as if to catch him, but Bilbo didn’t fall. Instead Sterling just put his head over Bilbo’s shoulder in a crude attempt at what felt like a hug, something Bilbo couldn’t help but reciprocate.

 _“Thank you.”_ He whispered to the pony. He hoped the message was one that Sterling could understand. If Sterling hadn’t kicked that Warg off of him, Bilbo surely would have been killed. 

“What do you want to do now, Bilbo?” Galion asked.

Bilbo sighed. He spent a moment longer comforting Sterling before he stepped away. As he relatched the gate and followed Galion from the stables, he thought about his answer carefully. He probably smelt like ponies now, and he knew his bandages would need to be changed soon. He was tired, and it was late, but there were still things he needed to do, weren’t there?

“Sleep.” He finally answered. “I’ll have to bathe first, but I want to rest.”

“Is your shoulder starting to ache?”

Bilbo grimaced, but nodded. The sling helped take the weight off the injured muscle, but his shoulder still felt incredibly weak, and it made him unbalanced when he walked. “A little. I won’t be able to ride ponies again for a long time, will I?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bilbo sighed. He rolled his shoulder tenderly before settling his arm in the sling again. “Bath first, then bed. Tomorrow I’ll go speak to Prince Oakenshield.”


	20. XV pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin finds Bilbo.

King Thranduil came to visit Bilbo once before he was finally released from the infirmary. Bilbo was propped up in bed when he came, his injured arm resting in its sling while his uninjured one propped up a book for him to read. He hadn’t been expecting his King, and was hardly dressed for it. While the King didn’t seem to mind, Bilbo was incredibly embarrassed. He could all but feel the tangles in his hair taunting him. 

It was a relief to know that the King didn’t want to bother Bilbo too much with the politics behind what had happened. Bilbo knew that Dain had come to the Greenwood without permission, which wasn’t allowed. His challenge to Bilbo was unwarranted, and it was his fault the Orcs had strayed so close to the Elven Citadel. Thranduil clearly wasn’t pleased; Bilbo could see it in the harsh set of his eyes and the way he carried himself with more height and dominance than he usually did. He must have been dealing with Dwarves for quite some time these past few days, then. To Bilbo, he clearly looked agitated.

The only thing Thranduil had particularly inquired after was Bilbo’s health and his opinion on the ponies. He’d wished to know if Bilbo wanted to continue on with training the ponies from Erebor, too. It hadn’t even occurred to Bilbo that their agreement might be in jeopardy over this. He hated to think that all the progress they’d made might have been for nothing over him, and so he told Thranduil that he still wished to train the ponies, if possible.

Thranduil let him. “I admire your tenacious attitude,” he’d said, “so I’ll allow it for now. However, you’re not to do anything until you’re completely healed.”

Bilbo was glad. He didn’t want the Dwarves – the ones that didn’t hate him – to leave just yet. There was still more he wanted to do with the ponies, and he wanted to spend more time with Thorin. He hated to think he might not see Thorin for a long time, or ever again, if he were to leave now. 

The day after he visited the ponies Bilbo found himself allowed to move back into his room. He had strict instructions on how to care for his wounds, and he had to promise to check in with the healers every second day, but they allowed him to leave. He spent that morning learning how to rewrap his own bandages single-handedly, and after eating breakfast he found himself wandering out into the pony fields. Galion had only begrudgingly let him go, but Bilbo knew that someone would be watching him even if it wasn’t Galion. 

The ponies were glad to be out and about again. It was a slower process unlatching all their pens and leading them into the field, but that was simply because he only had the use of one hand. Some of the ponies wanted his attention first, too, and so he was sure to comfort them until they got sick of him. 

It was mid-morning when Thorin arrived. Bilbo was seated on the benches fashioned from protruding tree roots, in a place where the sunlight fell warmly through the leaves of the trees above him. It was a nice day, he thought, one where the breeze was nothing more than a gentle caress against his skin and it seemed as though nothing bad would come along.

Thorin was quiet as he took a seat beside Bilbo. There was a worried frown on his face, gently pulling down the edges of his lips. He clasped his hands tightly as if to stop them from shaking, and didn’t meet Bilbo’s eyes, not even when Bilbo turned to look at him.

“Are you alright?” Bilbo asked, peering closer at the sullen Dwarf. “Prince Oakenshield?”

“It should be me asking you that.” Thorin eventually sighed. He straightened his back, and separated his hands. “Are you alright?”

Bilbo shrugged as best he could. “I’m sure I can manage.” He said. “My shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore, unless I strain it. It could have been worse.”

Thorin’s mouth pressed into a tense line. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I fear I will never be able to apologise enough for what has happened to you.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bilbo said. It was a sentence he’d repeated quite a fair bit of late. “I wish you wouldn’t blame yourself.”

“I am the reason Dain came here.” Thorin insisted. “I’m the one who suggested pony training as a part of the trade, too. If not for me, you would have never been injured.” 

Bilbo sighed. It was logical thinking, the kind of thinking that told him Thorin wasn’t taking into account his feelings, that he was trying to be distant. He didn’t like it when people thought like that, because it meant they’d been overthinking, and that there was nothing he could do to change their mind. Instead he just sighed again, and tilted his head back. “And Dain? What happened to him?”

Thorin’s face twisted into a scowl. “He’s being held in the cellar for now.” He murmured. “Making a right old fuss over it, too, but it wasn’t my order – though I certainly seconded it. My Father was the one who said to lock him away, for now.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows rose in surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“You made a good impression.” Thorin sighed, leaning back. “We’re getting a good hand out of this agreement, and my Father is very pleased with all the updates he’s been getting on the pony training. I think he did it more because he sees it as a way to better business, but I don’t care.”

“Better business?”

“Well, if you’re injured then there’s no one to train the ponies.” Thorin said, frowning again. “That’s just how his mind works, unfortunately.”

Bilbo hummed. “Kings have to think of their kingdoms and what could benefit it.” He said. “I understand his reasoning, though I hadn’t expected Dain to be locked away.”

“It’s his own fault.” Thorin muttered. “His foolishness led him to this, and he must suffer the consequences. Perhaps now he’ll come to learn to listen when I speak.”

“Perhaps.” Bilbo forced a chuckle. “What happened to all the Orcs? Galion always flinches when they’re brought up, so I never asked.”

“They’re all dead.” Thorin said. “The Wargs, too. The Elves didn’t let a single one escape. We didn’t either.”

Bilbo nodded. He expected as much, but it was different hearing it then when he thought it. He thought he would feel something at hearing it, at having his thoughts confirmed, but there was nothing but a stone-cold iciness in his stomach. 

“I really am sorry, Bilbo.” Thorin said, eyes downcast. “I know with a wound like that you’re unable to ride your ponies. I’m truly sorry.”

Bilbo lifted a hand to rub at his shoulder absently. “It could have been worse.” He said. “As soon as it heals I can ride again.”

Thorin was quiet for a long moment. “Is it going to scar?”

“Quite horribly, if Galion is to be believed.” Bilbo said, ignoring Thorin’s wince. “I wouldn’t believe Galion too much. There are undoubtedly going to be scars, yes, but what can I do about it? It doesn’t bother me too much.”

It was a lie, but Bilbo wasn’t going to tell him that.

Thorin didn’t reply.

The silence was uncomfortable. Words got lodged like a rock in Bilbo’s throat, and struck with the urge to fill the silence, he said the first thing that came to his mind. “The nightmares are worse.” He said. He regretted it, but he kept talking. “I don’t get them often, you know, but they’re always the same thing.”

Thorin did glance at him that time. “What are they about?”

“Wargs.” Bilbo answered. “Howling and snow that never stops falling. I don’t really remember the Fell Winter, but my mind seems to want to.”

Tentatively, Thorin reached out to take Bilbo’s uninjured hand in his own. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bilbo said on a small exhale. “They come and go as they please. I don’t really know what to do about them, if I’m being honest.” 

Thorin rubbed his hand soothingly. “We’ll figure it out.” He said.

For some reason, Bilbo believed him.


	21. XV pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's injuries prove difficult.

Physical therapy was quite a bit more painful than Bilbo had imagined it to be. Although the Elves that cared for him were unnecessarily gentle, the Warg’s teeth had pierced him farther than he had expected or thought them to. He’d never been particularly muscly in the first place so building up tone and strength again was always going to be a challenge, but he hadn’t expected it to hurt as much as it had.

By the time he made it to the dining hall after his first session his shoulder ached and he felt as though his entire side was bruised. He winced with every step and tried to hold his shoulder as still as possible but it was difficult to do so when he walked. Every step sent a sharp lance of pain through the wound, and although he eventually became numb to it, it was still there. 

He hadn’t seen his shoulder yet. Not properly, at least. He’d seen parts of the wound when he changed the bandages, of course, but he could feel that it was larger than he originally believed it to be. He didn’t want to see it. He knew it would scar, knew it would be a wound he carried all his life, and he never wanted to see it. For some reason he feared it, as though it would come to represent everything he’d tried to forget about the Fell Winter. 

Would the howls of Wargs ever stop haunting him?

A Hobbit with a kind smile passed him a plate full of food the moment he stepped into the dining hall. They’d been expecting him, he assumed. He was thankful, but it made him feel pitied. Was it not his job to look after them? It made him feel useless, but he shook off the feeling. He would be no use to them if he was wallowing in self-pity. His wound would heal, and he’d be able to ride again, eventually. That was all there was to it.

Still, the pain was something he didn’t enjoy tolerating. Sitting down was marginally easier but he couldn’t slouch or relax his spine. He hadn’t expected this to be so problematic already. 

Training the ponies proved to be problematic, too. A lot of the signals he needed to teach them involved two hands – a combination of gestures told them which way to move, and without the ability to teach them that he was incredibly limited. 

It was frustrating, to say the least. He wanted to get stuck back into his work, to forget about what had happened for a few hours, but it was proving impossible. Despite how difficult training was, he still found himself enjoying it, even if only a little. It was light and airy in the fields; untainted, it seemed, and comforting. If he couldn’t ride ponies, he’d just be with them as he was. For now, it was enough.

He was never left alone in the fields for long. Galion was his most frequent visitor. The Elf brought him food and drink frequently, and offered him company when he was able. He was always quite worried about Bilbo exerting himself, and helped out more in those days than he ever had before. Elros came too, sometimes with Galion, sometimes by himself. He didn’t treat Bilbo any differently, though Bilbo could tell he was concerned. The Elven Prince came, too, and out of all the Elves that visited Bilbo he stayed the longest. He was clearly displeased with the Dwarves and wasn’t afraid to say so, though Bilbo hardly blamed him.

When Thorin came to visit, he stayed for a long time. He inquired after the ponies, and after Bilbo’s health, but thankfully did not linger for long on either.

They walked around the field when Bilbo grew too restless sitting. “I’ve always trained the ponies,” Bilbo said after Thorin asked about it, “but I wasn’t always in charge, like I am now. I used to work in the agriculture department like most of us Hobbits, when I was younger.”

“Was that enjoyable?”

Bilbo laughed quietly. “It might be hard to imagine, but it was. Hobbits have always enjoyed gardening, you go. Growing produce in the fields was just an extension of that. It was easy.”

“Our agricultural department isn’t very large.”

“Isn’t it?”

Thorin shook his head. “I think you know by now that we Dwarves don’t favour vegetables and fruits all that much.” He said, amused. “It’s difficult to grow things on the mountain, too – the soil is too rocky and it freezes too far down during the winter, so everything we grow has to be tough. We much prefer meat, so our herds are large, and a lot of our resources go into maintaining them.”

“I see. We don’t really have herds. Sheep for wool, yes. And goats for milk.”

“Chickens, too.”

Bilbo laughed again. “Yes, we have a lot of chickens, too. Our eggs are always fresh, you know.”

“Yes, all the food I’ve tried tastes quite nice. Is it the Hobbits that cook?”

“Hobbits and Elves.” Bilbo said. “It’s a joint effort.”

It was peaceful, walking with Thorin. Bilbo didn’t notice when Thorin took his uninjured hand to hold, but it was a comforting, friendly gesture that Bilbo appreciated. 

Eventually, though, he had to ask. “What will happen to Dain?”

“He’s being punished.” Thorin said. “Your King and my Father have decided to send him back to Erebor to face the Durin line. I’ve already told my Father exactly what happened and the subsequent injuries you and Sterling suffered, so Dain can’t talk his way out of it.”

“I see.” Bilbo said again. “I hope they don’t treat him too harshly.”

“Why?” Thorin asked. He stopped, and stared down at Bilbo with perplexity in his eyes. “Why would you hope they’re lenient on him?”

Bilbo glanced away. He didn’t know why he hoped that, but he did. It wasn’t in his nature to wish ill on anybody, not even on somebody as misguided and judgemental as Dain. Was it wrong for him to wish for that when it was very likely Dain’s fault that he was as injured as he was?

“Your kindness truly knows no bounds.” Thorin said. He sounded surprised, or awed, as though he simply could not believe it. Then, almost without thinking, he leaned down to capture Bilbo’s lips in a sweet kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just quickly I wanted to apologise for not replaying to comments as much this past week ^____T I've been really exhausted and I have a lot of schoolwork coming up, but I do really appreciate everything everyone says ❤


	22. XVI pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galion comes to terms with the idea of Bilbo growing up.

Bilbo jerked back as he felt himself go horribly red. His heart was racing just behind his ribcage, flustered and frantic, and he couldn’t help but bashfully hide his eyes from Thorin’s searching gaze. He’d never kissed anyone before, at least not until now. Technically, he still hadn’t – Thorin kissed him.

Thorin _kissed_ him. _Thorin_ did. 

Just thinking it made him let out an embarrassed whine. He was filled with a strange fluttering sensation, one that went from the tips of his toes all the way up to the points of his ears. He liked Thorin. Liked liking Thorin, too. Is this what Hamfast felt like when he thought about Bell? It seemed likely enough. 

Thorin laughed at Bilbo’s bashfulness. Thankfully, he didn’t take Bilbo’s reaction as one of rejection. Instead he only laughed that pure, light-hearted laugh of his and lowered his head to press his nose against Bilbo’s cheek. It was a rather affectionate gesture, one Bilbo found himself enjoying far too much. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Thorin asked, just to double check.

Bilbo laughed too, and shook his head. Of course he didn’t mind. It was what he wanted. His answer seemed to please Thorin, if the warm kiss he pressed to Bilbo’s cheek was any indicator. Now that he seemed confident in Bilbo’s affections for him, Thorin didn’t seem like he wanted to hold back at all. Bilbo wasn’t complaining. 

They continued on their walk quite cheerfully after that. It was easy to forget about his shoulder and all of his worries when he was so focused on Thorin. It was rather nice, if he were being honest, to forget about it all for a little while. Thorin didn’t bring up Bilbo’s shoulder or any of his pressing responsibilities again, for which Bilbo was glad for. 

Later that evening, Bilbo wasn’t too surprised to find Galion sulking in Bilbo’s rooms. The Elf only pouted furiously to himself as Bilbo changed into pyjamas and brushed free the tangles in his hair as best as he could. It was amusing to Bilbo, but only because he knew that Galion was already aware of what had happened between Bilbo and Thorin. He didn’t know which Elf had been “supervising” him during the day, but they’d obviously Galion. Legolas too, probably.

“Why are you making such an awful expression?” Bilbo asked teasingly as he took a seat on the edge of his bed. “Even I can tell you’re pouting, Galion.”

A long sigh came from Galion’s lips. Very uncharacteristically, he threw himself down onto Bilbo’s bed, and covered his eyes with his arms. “My sweet, innocent child is growing up right before my eyes.” He said. There wasn’t quite a whine in his voice just yet, but it was edging closer with every word. “I don’t appreciate this development.”

Bilbo laughed, and gingerly lay down beside his guardian. His shoulder protested at the motion, but it was bearable. “Come now, I’ve hardly changed from when you saw me this morning to now.”

Galion only hummed. “Much has changed.” He disagreed. “Or is going to change.”

Bilbo glanced at him curiously. “Perhaps.” He said, and then he paused. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I suppose not.” Galion sighed again. He lowered his arms and looked up at the ceiling. “You hardly seem older than a babe, to me.”

“I’m of age.”

“I know.”

Bilbo was silent again for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

Galion shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry over, my dear.” He said. “It’s just strange for me to see you all grown up, that’s all. I’m woefully unprepared.”

Bilbo’s heart raced, but he didn’t know why. “I’m not that grown up.” He said, voice small. He was afraid that maybe Galion would treat him differently if he was, and it was a thought that filled him with nothing but a cold, shaking feeling. 

Galion smiled, and lifted a comforting hand to stroke Bilbo’s hair. “I know.” He soothed. “It wouldn’t be bad if you were, but… I don’t believe I’m ready to let you go, just yet, not even if it’s to let you go to a Dwarven Prince.” 

It was hard not to match his smile. All Elves were unnaturally beautiful, even more so when they showed their happiness, and it was something Bilbo had always admired. “Prince Oakenshield isn’t so bad.” He said. “I think you’ll come to like him.”

“Not if he’s stealing my baby away from me.” Galion sniffed delicately. “He’s all but robbing the cradle.”

Bilbo tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was just so hard not to when Galion acted so petulant. “I no longer sleep in the cradle, and I doubt Thorin is too much older than me.” He chuckled. “You should try to get to know him more.”

“I’ll frighten him away.”

“Hardly.”

“Or make a bad impression.”

“I doubt it.”

Galion huffed at him.

Bilbo simply laughed again. “I talk about you a lot, you know.” He said. “Thorin is always curious about my friends. He likes to hear about you.”

“Is that so?”

Bilbo nodded. “He’s curious about Elves.” Bilbo said. “He likes to learn about our culture.”

“Well, that’s something I can admire, at least.” Galion sigh. He sat up, and brushed a hand through his long hair to straighten it. “You should get some rest now, Bilbo. You have physical therapy tomorrow.”

Bilbo sighed. “I don’t like it.” He said.

“The therapy?”

He nodded. “It’s painful.” He said. “More than I expected it to be. Would you… Will you be able to join me, tomorrow? I… I don’t want to do it alone, again.”

“Of course I will.” Galion said without hesitation. He drew Bilbo closer, just gingerly, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll always be around if you need me, Bilbo. All you have to do is ask.”

Bilbo nodded, and laid down against his sheets. He couldn’t roll onto his side like he usually did, and would have to get used to sleeping on his back for now. Galion pulled the covers up over him and tucked them in, before petting Bilbo’s hair once like he used to when Bilbo was a child.

“Sleep well, Bilbo.”


	23. XVI pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's nightmares still plague him sometimes.

Training progressed as well as it could while Bilbo healed. Thorin often came to join him when he had the time spare, and eventually Bilbo began to have Thorin demonstrate the commands to the ponies when he himself could not. It was a strategy that worked rather effectively, Bilbo found – the ponies got used to taking the commands from someone other than Bilbo while they learned more and more things.

His physical therapy became easier to bear, too, as his muscle tone began to build up again. He didn’t have to change his bandages as frequently anymore, and the wound no longer bled when he accidentally pulled on it during the night. He could hold light objects without straining the joint, too. 

Dain was sent back to Erebor earlier in the week. Bilbo had seen the ravens coming in and out of the Greenwood for a while, but he never asked Thorin about them. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was happening with that specific Dwarven issue. Thorin never talked about it either, but he did tell Bilbo any other news when it came in.

For the most part, Bilbo put it behind him. While he still ignored the obvious scarring he was going to have, it was easy to forget about what happened, at least while the sun was up. His nightmares were still fairly frequent, but they weren’t as bad as before. Maybe he’d gotten used to them. Either way, they were tolerable. 

But sometimes they made him restless, especially on the nights he slept alone. He’d wake up with a painful jerk and groan as his shoulder complained. There wouldn’t be anyone there to soothe him back to sleep so he’d claw at his sheets until his heart settled. On the nights where it was the worst he found himself slipping from bed in an attempt to shake away his nerves, and tonight happened to be one of those nights. 

He couldn’t get the howls out of his head. They were faint but repetitive, and unbidden shivers wracked his spine as he wandered around. He should have pulled on a tunic or something to cover his nightgown but he hadn’t been thinking – he’d just wanted to get out of his stifling room for a little while. The halls of the Greenwood, while expansive and dark, were oddly comforting. He could smell the wood, polished and clean, and the faint scent of smoke from lanterns that burned along the corridor walls. It was homey and familiar.

In the dining hall, the tables had been cleared and everything had been packed away. If not for the shafts of moonlight falling in through the skylights Bilbo was sure the room would be black with darkness. When he took a seat at the cold tables he couldn’t help but sigh. He wished his shoulder wasn’t causing him so many problems. 

“Bilbo?”

He jumped at the sound of his name. “P-Prince Oakenshield? What are you doing up this late?”

“I could ask the same of you.” Thorin said, surprised. He was standing at the doorway to the dining hall, but quickly made his way over to take a seat beside Bilbo. “The meeting I was in only just finished. They often run this late.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Why are you awake so late?” Thorin asked. He lifted a hand to press his palm against Bilbo’s forehead, and frowned. “Are you feeling ill?”

Bilbo smiled thinly, and shook his head. “I’m alright.” He said as convincingly as he could.

Thorin sighed, and drew Bilbo into a gentle hug. His cheek rested against Bilbo’s head, a warm spot right at the crown, and his hand settled heavily at Bilbo’s waist. “Are you still having trouble sleeping?”

Bilbo pursed his lips, and begrudgingly nodded. “A little.” He said. “I was restless tonight, that’s all.” 

Thorin hummed. His hand rubbed at Bilbo’s waist for a moment before he seemed to realise what he was doing, and his hand settled again. “Perhaps you should talk to someone.” He suggested quietly. “Night terrors can be quite problematic.”

“That’s true.” Bilbo sighed. Greedily, he leant into Thorin’s embrace, and pressed his nose into the space under Thorin’s chin. “I just don’t want to bother anyone.”

“I doubt you ever could.” Thorin said honestly. “I know you wish to help everyone Bilbo, but perhaps you should let them help you, too. You do so much for your people and for the Elves – for us Dwarves as well – without ever asking anything in return. It’s alright to be a little selfish sometimes.”

“I…” Bilbo struggled to find words. “I should be the one helping them, the one they rely on, and yet… I just can’t do anything with this. I feel like I’m letting my kin down.”

Thorin hummed again. “I understand. I really do.” He said. His hand had started rubbing comforting circles onto Bilbo’s waist again. “But you’re not letting anyone down. Even with your… Your wound, you’re still doing just as much work as ever. It doesn’t matter if you need some help to do it, it still gets done, and no one is inconvenienced.” 

Bilbo peered up at Thorin with wide, wavering eyes. “Do you really think that?” He asked, voice impossibly quiet.

Thorin nodded before Bilbo even finished his sentence. “Of course I do.” He said heartily. “There isn’t anything you’ve done wrong, so you mustn’t think that you have.”

He couldn’t help but smile, just a little, at Thorin’s words. From a Prince like him they felt oddly raw, like there wasn’t any ulterior motive behind them. He knew Thorin was trying to make him feel better, but even so there was nothing in his tone that was anything but completely honest. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

Thorin squeezed his waist. “It’s not a problem.” He said. They lingered for a moment, quiet and content, before a yawn built up in Bilbo’s throat. He tried to hide it, but Thorin evidently felt it, if his laugh was anything to go by. “You should head back to bed.” He said.

“You should too.” Bilbo argued lightheadedly. 

Thorin chuckled. “Alright, alright, I will. Goodnight Bilbo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” Bilbo sleepily agreed.


	24. XVII pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo isn't quite healed yet.

When Bilbo first clambered back onto a pony, he realised he should have probably given it another week. His shoulder ached at the way his back straightened, and he couldn’t help but turn his head to hide a wince. He wanted to ride again, wanted to connect with his animals. He could deal with a little bit of pain for now.

Galion, however, didn’t seem to think he should. The Elf frowned deeply, and his grip tightened from where his hand rested on Bilbo’s knee. He’d helped Bilbo up into Myrtle’s saddle at Bilbo’s insistence, but now he looked like he was regretting it. 

“Perhaps we should wait a little longer, _mellon.”_ Galion said.

Bilbo shook his head stubbornly. “I’ll be alight.” He said. “I’m already up here anyway, there’s no point in giving up now.”

“Of course there is.” Galion sighed. “If it means you won’t aggravate your injury.”

“I’ll be alright.” He repeated. If he said it enough then maybe Galion – and Bilbo himself – would come to believe it. As long as he took it slowly then he should be able to ride with no problem. Or at least, that was what he hoped. Still, Galion watched him with uncannily perceptive eyes as Bilbo urged Myrtle in to a very slow-paced walk. 

For what it was worth, she seemed to understand that he was feeling sore. Her footsteps were light and cautious, and without any guidance she avoided dips and rises in the land in favour of the flattest part of the field. She really was quite intelligent. 

He didn’t blame Galion for being worried. Riding was more strenuous than he expected, and even with all the physical therapy he’d been doing his shoulder hadn’t healed as fast as he would have liked. He could feel the injured skin pulling with every step Myrtle took, and it didn’t help that his back was tense from being straightened. Realistically he knew it would hurt a little, but he wished he had healed some more by now. It was like all the pain from his physical therapy and his restless nights spent tossing and turning had been for nothing. 

“It looks like it will still be a while before you can ride properly.” Legolas said. Sometime between the time Bilbo mounted Myrtle and when he steered her back, Legolas had appeared. “Your back looks stiff, and there’s too much tension in your shoulders. Anything more and you may pull the scabs open.”

Bilbo winced, but he knew it was the truth. He accepted Galion’s helping hand to climb off of Myrtle. “I want to be able to ride again.” He sighed. “I didn’t realise I’d miss it so much.” 

Galion placed a comforting hand on his back and took over his half-hearted attempt at unsaddling the pony. “You’ll be able to eventually.” He said. He sounded confident, and Bilbo found himself believing him, even if only a little. “The physical therapy is working – it’s strengthening your muscles. Even if you cannot tell, I can see it. Do not worry too much, Bilbo. It’s just a matter of time.”

He tried to smile, but it came out thin and weak. “I know, it’s just frustrating.”

 

With the pony training progressing steadily, Bilbo knew it was only a matter of time before Thorin had to return to Erebor. He’d already been in the Greenwood for quite some time, and Bilbo knew he would be needed at his home again. It was a thought that left him feeling oddly hollowed, but it wasn’t as though he would never see Thorin again. He knew he was free to visit the Kingdom under the Mountain as he wished; Thorin himself had said so.

Either way, he made sure to enjoy the time he spent with Thorin. The Dwarf actively sought out his company, and was very affectionate when they were on their own. Thorin was aware that Elves were constantly watching Bilbo, but he’d gotten used to them, and he now knew that they would never bring up anything he did so long as he didn’t harm Bilbo.

Sometimes, the Dwarves watched them too. Watched out for Thorin. Bilbo wouldn’t do anything; in his state he probably couldn’t even sneak up on Thorin, let alone when he wasn’t injured. He didn’t blame the Dwarves, though, not when the Elves were doing the exact same thing in his name. While the Dwarves were not nearly as subtle as the Elves, they left Thorin and Bilbo alone whenever Thorin gave them a look, for which Bilbo was glad.

Being affectionate in front of the Elves was alright, but being affectionate in front of Dwarves was completely different. 

“You’ll come visit again, won’t you?” Thorin asked one evening as they shared a sweet pastry between the two of them. “Visit Erebor, I mean.”

Bilbo nodded. “As soon as I can ride again, I’ll come.” He said. “It will be good experience for the ponies, too.” 

Thorin looked pleased at that. “I’ll be sure to show you more of my home when you come to visit.” He said, grinning. “I think you’ll like the mines – they always glitter with jewels quite prettily.”

A laugh built in behind his lips. “Everyone likes jewels.” He said. “Though perhaps not as much as Dwarves? Your jewellery cannot be rivalled by anyone… Though the Elvish circlets are by far the nicest, if I do say so myself.” 

Thorin laughed. His eyes flickered up to the simple circlet around Bilbo’s forehead for a moment. “They are quite lovely.” He agreed. 

Bilbo took another bite of the sweet dessert sitting between them. “Do you often leave the mountain for this long?”

Thorin shook his head. “Not often.” He said. “Usually only for a fortnight or so.”

Bilbo hummed. “Should I apologise for keeping you for so long?”

Thorin laughed again. “No, no, you shouldn’t. This is a good diplomatic opportunity for me. I’ve learned much during my stay here, about Hobbits and Elves and politics. This has been a good experience for me.”

“I’m glad.” Bilbo chuckled. “Do you know when you have to leave?”

“Perhaps in a week.” Thorin sighed. “I hope you don’t mind if I steal away most of your free time until then.”

Bilbo flushed, suddenly quite bashful. “Not at all.”


	25. XVII pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo sleeps restlessly without someone in the room to comfort him.

That night, when Bilbo had retired to bed after farewelling Thorin, a sharp, piercing sound abruptly startled him from sleep. It was a sound he knew well, though he’d only heard it a tiny handful of times in his life. 

It was a warning horn.

“Calm, _mellon.”_ Galion murmured as soon as Bilbo jerked awake. He leaned across Bilbo’s sheets, his book forgotten in the armchair angled towards the bed, to press his palm against Bilbo’s cheek. “It’s nothing to be frightened over.”

“W-what is it?” Bilbo asked quietly, voice rough with sleep. He startled as the horn blew again, and pushed himself upright. “Has someone come to the Greenwood?”

Galion pursed his lips. There was tension vaguely visible in his shoulders. “It seems as though someone has invaded the forest, yes, but there’s no way for them to find King Thranduil’s Halls. You know that.”

Bilbo did. The forest was shrouded in strange, sometimes dark magic that made travellers lose both their mind and their way. Without a guide from Thranduil’s Halls to lead them through, there was no doubt in his mind that travellers would find themselves lost. It was as though the paths constantly changed, like the trees were alive and breathing. They very well might have been, for all he knew.

“Who is it?” Bilbo asked. He nervously pulled the sheets tighter around his body. It felt uncharacteristically cold in his room. “Is it Orcs again?”

“Likely.” Galion murmured. “A whole pack of them tracked Dain’s group to the Greenwood, so it’s quite possible they’re trying to get into the forest. I doubt they’ll make it farther than the tree line, though.”

Bilbo nodded, and relaxed his grip on the sheets. “Do you have to go?”

Galion sighed, and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Bilbo’s forehead. “You know I must.” He said. “But I will be back as fast as I can, so don’t wait up for me.”

Bilbo nodded again, but he knew he would be unable to sleep until Galion returned safe and sound. It wasn’t usual for Galion to be involved in any fighting the Elves had to do, mostly because no one was foolish enough to advance on the Greenwood. There were large spiders that sometimes tried to migrate into the trees and the sparse but small packs wolves that sometimes strayed too close, but it was always handled quickly and efficiently by the Guard.

But Galion was not in the Guard.

Still, Bilbo had no reason to doubt Galion’s skill. He knew his guardian was strong, and that he could take care of himself. Most Elves generally could. 

“I’ll return as soon as possible.” Galion pressed a chaste kiss to Bilbo’s forehead before straightening. “Try to get some rest, my dear. Do not fret too much.”

Bilbo nodded, but he could not bring himself to bid Galion goodbye. If he did, then it would be okay for Galion to never return, so instead he anxiously watched Galion leave the room. Without him, everything seemed just a little bit colder. Bilbo had long since become accustomed to the presence of someone else in the room while he slept, and without that security he found himself restless and worked up.

He tried to sleep again, but sleep wouldn’t come no matter how hard he tried. Although he wanted to sleep through all his troubles, it just wasn’t possible, so in the end he crawled out from bed and left the room after pulling on a soft, woollen scarf. He was only in his thin white nightgown and so he still shivered, but the scarf helped. 

The halls weren’t empty, but Bilbo went fairly unnoticed as he wandered around aimlessly. There were Elves dressed in light armour running messages back and forth, and many were heading for the main entrance. Predictably, there were no Hobbits present.

“Bilbo! What are you doing out of your room?”

He jumped as Thorin rushed over to grip him by the arms. His hands were burning spots of warmth on Bilbo’s chilled, bare skin. “I… I’m just restless. Galion is out there.”

A look of understanding came over Thorin’s face, and he nodded. “I heard there was a breach at the forest’s edge, but the Elves are handling it. You shouldn’t be out of bed at this time.”

Bilbo just shook his head. “I’m fine.” He said.

Thorin frowned. “You’re all but shivering.” He argued. In one smooth motion he pulled off his blue cloak and slipped it on over Bilbo’s shoulders. “You’re not even wearing your sling.”

Bilbo winced. “Sorry.” He murmured. “I didn’t even notice.” 

Thorin pulled the cloak tighter around Bilbo’s shoulders, and drew him closer. “It’s too cold for you to be wearing such thin clothing.” He said. There was light colouring in his cheeks, which in turn made Bilbo flush. The nightgown was quite thin… 

“I’m sorry.” He said again.

“Nonsense.” Thorin shook his head, and slipped his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. “Come now, you should return to your room and warm up. Lead the way.” 

Bilbo did as Thorin asked. He doubted the Dwarf had ever been in the residential wing of Thranduil’s Halls, but he trusted Thorin enough to lead him there. Thorin didn’t mention it at all, which Bilbo was thankful for. He didn’t know how the Elves would feel having a Dwarf so close to where they rested, but Bilbo’s room was technically still amongst the rooms that Hobbits had, and he doubted Hobbits would be terribly upset about it.

For once, Bilbo was glad his room was neat and clean. His circlet from the day had been lazily placed on his bedside table and there was still one of his waistcoats thrown over the top of his privacy screen, but it was still a presentable room. He took a seat on his rumpled bed and absently watched as Thorin cleared away Galion’s book to take his seat. 

“Your Elf will be alright, rest assured.” Thorin comforted. He reached out to take Bilbo’s hand gently. “I doubt that whoever is testing the limits of the forest are anything special. Galion will likely return without even drawing his bow.”

Bilbo nodded. “I know,” he said, “I know, but I worry for him greatly. He can be a bit of a fool sometimes, you know.”

Thorin chuckled, and rubbed Bilbo’s hand gently. “You see, there’s nothing to worry about.” He said. “Tried to get some rest.”

Bilbo nodded, and laid down on his bedsheets. He tucked his legs under them, but refused to give up Thorin’s warm cloak and instead used that to cover his body. He didn’t let go of the Dwarf’s large hand, either, and Thorin didn’t make a move to leave.

With a person he trusted in the room again, it was easy to fall asleep.


	26. XVIII pt.1

Galion returned early the next morning. He entered the room and unintentionally woke Bilbo, though Bilbo didn’t blame Galion; he would have woken at any sound, including the bedroom door opening. The Elf was wearing his light armour, and he still clutched his bow. His hair was tangled, but not overly so, and one of his knees was smudged with dirt, but he didn’t look injured.

Bilbo had never felt so relieved. He was so blinded by that overwhelming feeling that for a moment he completely forgot that Thorin was in the room, slumped over in Galion’s armchair. Still, Galion only glanced at Thorin for a moment before dismissively turning away. 

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I should be asking you that.” Bilbo said quietly. His eyes dropped to the dirt staining Galion’s pants. “Your knee…”

“It’s fine.” Galion assured him. He strode closer and deposited his bow on the end of Bilbo’s bed, where Bilbo’s legs didn’t reach, before taking a seat. He looked tired. “There was an Orc pack trying to destroy the gates to the Greenwood.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Bilbo asked, his brows furrowed in concern. 

Galion shook his head. “Only superficial wounds; a few cuts and scraped elbows. Nothing to be concerned over.” 

Bilbo exhaled deeply, and nodded. “Alright,” he murmured, “alright, that’s good. I’m glad.”

Wearily, Galion stood then. “I’m going to go bathe and rest for a little. Is that alright?”

Bilbo nodded. “Sleep well.” He said. Even though he knew Elves didn’t exactly sleep, it was the thought that counted. He was sure Galion would appreciate the sentiment. 

After Galion pressed a kiss to his forehead, he picked up his bow and took his leave. The tenseness in his shoulders from before still remained, but Bilbo was sure it would be gone by morning. Galion wasn’t the type of person to linger in morose feelings, and he was quick to forgive and forget, given the situation. He wouldn’t sulk over this. Fleetingly, Bilbo thought he might sulk over the fact that Thorin had stolen his chair, but that was about it.

For a moment, Bilbo simply sat as he was. His head was still thumping with relief, but he knew it would slow down in a minute or two. He was just glad that Galion was home and safe. With that knowledge, he thought he might be able to sleep easier, at least until he was required to wake up and start his day.

So that was what he did.

When morning did come, he felt a little better. Hungry, but better. He was surprised to find that Thorin was still slumped over in Galion’s chair, fast asleep. He surely couldn’t be comfortable, and he must have been cold without his blue coat on, but he hadn’t left. His arm was still reached across to the bed, though it wasn’t that far, and his fingers were still loosely gripping Bilbo’s hand. Sometime between the time Galion had left and the morning, Thorin had taken a hold of his hand again.

It made Bilbo’s cheeks flush. He gently untangled his fingers from Thorin’s grip, and stood. The air was chilly, and self-consciously he drew Thorin’s coat tighter around his shoulders. When he glanced down at himself, he couldn’t help but turn redder with embarrassment. With sunshine lighting up the room from wide windows that peered outside, the nightgown he wore was suddenly quite a bit thinner. That, with the cold, probably wasn’t the best combination for him.

He’d have to change before Thorin woke up, then. He’d never been more thankful for his privacy screen. 

He chose one of his nicer tunics to wear that day. It was light green in colour, and very soft to the touch. He liked the decorative pattern embroidered into its hem. Paired with a light-weight, gold circlet and he was sure he was presentable enough for even Elros to agree to. He kept Thorin’s coat neatly folded over one of his arms as he went to wake the slumbering Prince and desperately hoped that the fabric didn’t smell too strongly of him.

Thorin woke up with a start when Bilbo touched his shoulder. For a moment he only blinked blurrily at Bilbo, and in an uncharacteristic moment of sleepy confusion he mumbled something unintelligible and lifted his hand to rub at his eyes.

“Good morning,” Bilbo said as he offered the coat back. “Did you sleep alright in that chair? You look a little uncomfortable…”

Thorn shook his head, and absently took his coat back. “Good morning.” He repeated. 

Bilbo hadn’t thought that the Dwarven Prince could ever look so vulnerable or sweet, but he did in that moment. All his walls were down, and he wasn’t consciously straightening his back or acting particularly princely. It was refreshing to see, and it filled Bilbo with a strange, giddy feeling right in the bottom of his stomach. To think that even someone as charming and confident as Thorin could look so adorable upon first awakening was incredibly heartening. 

Blissfully, Thorin didn’t seem to notice.

 

King Thranduil came to visit the pony fields late that morning. He didn’t often leave his halls, but his presence wasn’t unwelcome. The ponies adored him, perhaps more so than they adored normal Elves. For what it was worth, Thranduil was incredibly old when it came to years, and his experience with animals and the strange magic they imbued couldn’t possibly be bested.

There was a reason he was the King of the Greenwood, after all.

“This is the first time I’m seeing the animals from Erebor properly.” Thranduil mused as he came to stand beside Bilbo, who had Sterling pressing against his side for attention. “I trust they’ve been just as workable as our own?”

Bilbo nodded. “Yes, training is going quite well.” He said. “Animals respond well to the Elvish language, after all.”

The King nodded, pleased. “That pony in particular seems quite fond of you.” He said, nodding his head in Sterling’s direction. The pony perked at the attention he received, and he curiously stretched his neck forwards as if expecting the King to extend a hand to his nose. Thranduil didn’t, but Sterling didn’t seem miffed.

“I think he’s been understood.” Bilbo explained as he ran his good hand down Sterling’s neck. “He required a different method of training than the other ponies, and I don’t think it’s been offered to him before. He likes to brood, this one.” 

Thranduil looked amused at Bilbo’s human-like treatment of the animal. “And the Dwarven Prince? I understand you’ve been spending quite a lot of time with him.”

Bilbo flushed, and turned his head away. He nodded. “I have.” He said. It was hard to hide the smile in his voice. “Is that a bad thing?”

Thranduil shook his head. “No, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. He seems much more agreeable than his father.”

Bilbo laughed. Only Thranduil would say something like that, and perhaps he would only say it to someone like Bilbo, if not to Legolas. It certainly sounded strange coming from Thranduil’s mouth, but many of the things he said tended to be like that.

In either case, Bilbo was glad he approved of the relationship Bilbo was developing with Thorin. Perhaps something good would come from it soon, after all.


	27. XVIII pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seemed foolish, now.

Before the Dwarves left, the Elves and the Hobbits prepared a feast. It was customary to see off visitors to the Greenwood with good food and drink, and the Dwarves were treated no differently. If they had acted brash and disrespectful throughout the entire duration of their stay then perhaps the Elves wouldn’t have offered such a friendly farewell, but the Dwarves had been on their best behaviour of late, and it wasn’t going unnoticed.

Bilbo thought it was mostly Thorin’s doing. Especially after Dain’s unannounced visit, the Dwarves and their opinions on the inhabitants of the Greenwood had started to change. Bilbo had found that their distasteful glares and crude murmurings had lessened with every passing day. The Dwarves no longer seemed opposed to socialising with those from the Greenwood, either, though they still seemed to prefer anything – including Hobbits – over Elves. It was a baby step, Bilbo assured himself. Maybe his friendly relationship with Thorin had inspired it.

He helped out in the kitchen, this time around. They didn’t need to prepare quite as much food, but his extra hands were still welcome. It wasn’t like he could help lift their maypoles to hold up the white marquee, or string up decorations like lanterns and prettily coloured ribbons. Not with his shoulder, anyway.

No one brought it up when he went to the kitchens rather than to the field.

At least he didn’t have to wear his sling as much, nowadays. The wound was closing nicely, and his physical therapy sessions weren’t so painful anymore. Sometimes, just for a little while, it was easy to forget that the injury was there at all. 

Baking was a welcome distraction. He certainly wasn’t the best at it, but he had some skills, and his fellow Hobbits didn’t need to watch over his shoulder while he worked. It was always chaotic in the kitchens when Hobbits cooked, but it was organised, and oddly enjoyable. Everyone knew what they had to do and when they had to do it by, and although they worked mostly in specific groups, they all moved towards one main goal. 

Briefly, at lunchtime, Thorin stopped by to visit Bilbo. He didn’t seem to mind that Bilbo was flustered and a little bit sweaty from the heat of the ovens. He still pressed a greeting kiss to Bilbo’s cheek and held his hand as they sat at a table in the dining hall to eat. There were other Dwarves in the hall, and even though they glanced at Thorin sceptically, he didn’t seem to care.

Somehow, Thorin’s confidence gave Bilbo confidence, too. He knew that his friends and family wouldn’t disapprove of any sort of relationship he had with the Dwarven Prince, so why should he be nervous about being affectionate? It seemed foolish now that he thought about it, but it was an endearing kind of foolishness that he thought he might look back on and laugh at one day in the future.

The feast was held on the second last night of the Dwarves’ stay. Long dining tables were laid out in the field and laden with food and wine by Hobbits and Elves alike. Bilbo was rather excited by it all. Without the worry of organising everything, he was able to enjoy himself a little more. He still missed doing all the work he usually did, but it was nice to take a break for once.

On the night of the feast, Bilbo let Elros dress him up again. The Elf chose a soft white tunic with golden details for him to wear, along with a forest green coat to keep away the chills. He paired it with a golden circlet and a matching broach to keep the coat tied together. 

Predictably, the food and the music offered at the feast was wonderful. Everyone sat down to eat and converse their fill, and Bilbo found himself dividing his time between his friends and Thorin. He spent much of the beginning of the evening chatting with Hamfast and Bell, of whom held hands and looked generally quite flustered at one another. It made Bilbo grin. He spent some time at the table with the royals, too. Thranduil stayed for a short while, but there was more he had to attend to, so Legolas took his place.

It was nice to see Legolas light-heatedly badgering Tauriel. She was perhaps one of the only other Elves that Legolas let his guard down around. Of course, Bilbo also sat with Galion and Elros. The two of them were eager to chat about the wines being served, and it made Bilbo laugh. They really did love it. Even if they were not drinking it, or drinking it without the intention to get drunk, they still enjoyed talking about it, and comparing their favourites. They used terminology Bilbo had no hope of ever understanding.

When the music began and many people stood to walk around and dance, Bilbo found himself wandering over to Thorin. His companions didn’t seem to mind Bilbo’s presence at their table, and Bilbo was pleasantly surprised to find that they included him in their conversations instantly. He recognised some – Dwalin, Balin and Gloin – but there were others Bilbo soon came to know the names of, too; Bofur, his strangely silent cousin Bifur and a small scribe who went by the name of Ori. They were fun people to be around, if a little loud. Such was the nature of Dwarves.

“You look charming tonight.” Thorin said as his presence slipped from the conversation. “I like your circlet.”

Bilbo grinned, flushing. “As do you.” He said. 

When the field was filled with dancing couples, Thorin and Bilbo joined them. Thorin led Bilbo by the hand, and held him by the waist. Bilbo was still always surprised by the sheer difference in size that their hands shared. Next to Thorin, he felt dainty, and it was an oddly pleasurable feeling. Dancing with him was like that, too – dainty and enjoyable.

If anything, it was a night that became the perfect memory to farewell Thorin and the other Dwarves with.


	28. XIX pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise.

The morning the Dwarves were scheduled to return to Erebor, Bilbo woke feeling a little disappointed. There were always meetings scheduled during the day, so he knew he would only be able to see Thorin at meal times. It was saddening to think about. He knew Thorin was needed at his home, but he would surely miss the Dwarven Prince quite a bit.

After dressing, Bilbo made his way down to the dining hall. He knew his Elves were busy that morning – taking stock, mostly, so that they could replenish what had been used the previous night – so he wondered who would be free to eat with. He was pleasantly surprised to find Thorin sitting at one of the tables, two plates of food before him. From a glance Bilbo just knew one had to be for him; it was filled with fruits and breads that he enjoyed. 

“Good morning, Prince Oakenshield.” He said as he took a seat beside Thorin. “Thank you for the food!”

Thorin smiled at him. “Good morning.” He greeted with a polite nod. Only when Bilbo was seated did he start eating. His cheeks were slightly flushed. “Did you sleep well?”

Bilbo nodded. “I did! I hope you enjoyed our feast last night.” 

“I did.” Thorin laughed. “I was unaware that Elves offered such hospitalities to their guests.”

“Of course we do,” Bilbo chuckled, “so long as they’re friendly guests!”

It was really relaxing to spend time with Thorin like he did. Even when just sharing a meal he felt like he became closer to the Dwarf. He learned things every moment he spent with Thorin, and even if it was just something as simple as the order in which he ate things on his plate or which hand he used to brush back stray strands of hair, they were quirks Bilbo came to enjoy looking for. They were surprisingly easy to recall, too.

Breakfast ended all too soon, Bilbo thought. He hardly realised that time had passed until sunlight started to stream in through the sky lights warmly, more so than the morning would typically warrant. He himself had work that had to be done today, but all he wanted to do was spend time with Thorin.

He wouldn’t be able to have breakfast with him tomorrow. 

When they stood to leave, Thorin caught him by the elbow. “I’ll see you at lunchtime?” He asked hopefully. 

Bilbo flushed but nodded. “Of course.” He wanted to spend as much time with Thorin as he could, even with work to be done and meetings to attend. The ponies from Erebor would be remaining in the Greenwood until their training was completed to the standard already agreed upon, so Bilbo still had a lot of work to do with them. He knew training would progress faster when his shoulder was healed enough that it allowed him to ride properly, but for now there were still commands he could teach them.

The ponies were already out in the field when Bilbo arrived at the stables. He was surprised for a moment before he spotted Galion and Elros watching over them. 

“Ah, Bilbo,” Galion greeted as Bilbo wandered over, “I hope you don’t mind us taking your ponies out for the morning.”

Bilbo shook his head. “Of course not,” he answered, “but is there a reason for it? I thought you had stocktake to do this morning.”

“It’s been pushed back until evening.” Elros explained. Absently, he lifted a hand to straighten Bilbo’s circlet, before nodding to himself. “We’ve been relocated here.” 

Bilbo’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Not that I mind you here, but why? It’s not because of my shoulder, is it?”

Galion shook his head. “Not at all, Bilbo.” He was quick to reassure. “But you’ve been given the day off today.”

“I have?”

“Yes.” Elros nodded. “Prince Oakenshield, too.”

Bilbo’s heart fluttered. “Really? But what about his meetings?”

“They can be handled by someone else for a day, _mellon.”_ Galion said. He pulled Bilbo into a warm hug and comfortingly rubbed his back. “Don’t you want to spend the day with him? The Dwarves are leaving tonight.”

Bilbo burned with red, but nodded. 

“Off you go, then.” Galion urged. “I’m sure your Dwarf has been informed of the change of plans by now. Go enjoy your free time, my dear.”

Bilbo nodded, and after squeezing Galion once around the waist he was off. He had no doubt that Galion had had some sort of say in this arrangement, maybe even against his better judgement, and for that Bilbo was very thankful. Perhaps spending the day with Thorin would alleviate some of the disappointment he’d woken up with. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

He found the Dwarf in a corridor near the kitchens. It seemed that Thorin had been on his way to the pony fields, but when he caught sight of Bilbo he simply grinned and made his way over to meet him. 

“I’ve been given the day off.” Thorin said, reaching for Bilbo’s hands. “Are you free, Bilbo?”

He was, and so they went to one of the sunnier parts of Thranduil’s Halls together. Shining sunlight filtered in through wide, high skylights and windows stylishly placed around the room to brighten up the room. They took a seat in one of the comfortable chairs to relax. Bilbo didn’t often get the chance to lounge around in an airy room like this, but it was oddly exciting. When almost the entirety of their citadel was built underground, it was nice to have rooms solely dedicated to bringing in sunlight just like this one did.

For a little while, they just talked. Bilbo allowed himself the moment to lean across Thorin, tucked into his side and under his arm as if they were already proper sweethearts. It was easy to talk about their homes and their ponies and the things they liked when such a warming atmosphere blanketed the room.

It was exciting to think that Bilbo would visit Thorin in Erebor one day. Thorin talked about the mines and the jewels and the treasury. Even though Bilbo didn’t value such treasures as much as Thorin did, it was still exhilarating to share that passion with him. It was the same as when Bilbo showed off the Greenwood and all the things about his home that he loved. How could he not be excited over Thorin’s, too?


	29. XIX pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was enough.

Along the walls of the sunroom were bookshelves lined with old, interesting books. Bilbo curiously ran his fingers across their sun-warmed spines, wondering if there were any books here he had not yet read. Many of them were filled with children’s stories, and others were books purely filled with beautiful, coloured illustrations. There were quite a few he was intimately familiar with.

His favourite story, one about a baby duck, was the one he withdrew from the stack. It was moderately thick, and even without opening its hard covers he knew that there would be pages and pages filled with illustrations and widely written words. 

“What’s that?” Thorin asked him curiously. The Dwarven Prince had been watching him for some time. The weight of his eyes on Bilbo’s back was warm and oddly comforting.

“It’s a book Galion used to read to me when I was a child.” Bilbo said. He carried it over, and spread it out across the table between Thorin and himself. The golden letters on its cover shimmered for a brief moment as he flipped it open. “I think it was Galion’s favourite. He loved it more than I did, eventually. He read it to me very frequently.” 

Thorin chuckled, and observed the page Bilbo and randomly opened with inquisitive eyes. “Is it written in Elvish?”

Bilbo nodded. He ran his fingers over the neat words. “It’s written in Elvish, yes, but it’s very formal. Elves tend to write less strictly, now.”

“Can you read it?”

Bilbo nodded again. “I can.” He said. “Does that surprise you?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Thorin chuckled. He glanced over the pages, his eyes lingering on the elegant, scrawling script of the Elvish language. “It’s remarkable, though, that you can read and speak so many languages. I’m impressed.” 

Bilbo grinned bashfully. His stomach always tied itself into fluttering little knots when Thorin praised him like that. The Dwarf was always so honest in his assessments, and somehow gaining his favour over something Bilbo could do was enthralling. “I’ve grown up with it, that’s all. It’s the same way you can speak and read Khuzdul.”

“Perhaps.” Thorin smiled to himself. “What is the story about?”

Bilbo hummed, and absently flipped through the pages. “An ugly duckling.” He said.

“Ugly?”

“The ducking isn’t like the other ducklings, so they think he’s ugly.” Bilbo said. “It sounds sad, but the ending is happy.”

“How does it end?”

Absently, Bilbo flipped through the pages until he reached the end. An illustration of a swan with flared wings took up almost the entire page. “He grows up into a beautiful, happy swan of course.” Bilbo said. “He wasn’t a duck at all, and that’s okay.”

Thorin smiled again. “That’s a sweet story.”

“I think there’s a version written in common somewhere at the library.” He said. “It was popular amongst us Hobbits when we first arrived, so it was translated for us. It’s a story that’s quite like the stories that were told in the Shire, I believe.”

“I didn’t expect to see this sort of thing from the Elves.” Thorin mused.

“Oh? How do you mean?”

“Well, it didn’t cross my mind that the Elves would have things like children’s stories.” Thorin said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “It makes them seem a lot more approachable, don’t you think? Before, it was easy to only think of Elves as cold, distant beings with a strong distaste for Dwarves, as though they were personal offences.”

Bilbo nodded in understanding.

“But it’s different now.” Thorin continued. He distractedly flipped through the pages of the story sitting before him. “I’ve seen the way they live and eat, and their fondness for small things like their favourite wine or a piece of jewellery they favour. I’ve seen them act like I didn’t think they could – teasing, affectionate, compassionate… They love their children just as ferociously as we love ours, and that’s something I can never fault.” 

Bilbo smiled to himself. He never thought he’d be happy to hear someone say something that seemed so obvious to him, but he was. Even more so when it came from a Dwarf. “I think there are still a lot of misconceptions that need to be overcome, but I’m glad that Dwarves came to stay here for so long.” 

Thorin made a small noise of agreement. “Yes, I agree.”

When lunchtime came, Bilbo accompanied Thorin down into the dining hall. A Hobbit with a friendly smile already had plates prepared for them, and Bilbo had no doubt that one of the Elves had come by to forewarn them of Bilbo’s arrival. It was a gesture he appreciated.

After lunch, Bilbo decided to lead Thorin around Thranduil’s Halls one last time before he left. He held onto Thorin’s hand as tightly as he dared, and cast any thoughts about Thorin’s impending departure from his mind. With Thorin standing beside him, so real and solid, it was an easy thing to forget.

“This place really is quite peaceful.” Thorin said as they walked along the paths above ground. Midday was edging into afternoon, and a warm glow was beginning to encompass the forest. “I can see why you favour it so much.”

Bilbo laughed. “Yes, it is quite peaceful.” He agreed. “But I enjoyed staying at Erebor, too.”

“You’ll have to come visit soon.” Thorin said. He had a small, sort of crooked smile on his face, like he was trying to hold it back. 

“I will.” Bilbo assured him. “I want to.”

This time, the smile touched both corners of Thorin’s lips. He pulled Bilbo just a little bit closer, and rested his forehead against Bilbo’s. “I’ll miss you.” He said. 

Bilbo smiled too. It wasn’t a sad or forlorn kind of smile. “I’ll miss you too.” He said. “Is… Is it alright if I write to you?”

Thorin nodded. “I’ll write back.” He promised. It was a sweet promise to make, one that perhaps was more important than a promise to see each other again soon. Bilbo, for all that he was worth, was a realist at heart, and just a promise of contact was enough to satisfy him. He knew it would be difficult to see Thorin in the future, though not completely impossible. He was still unsure about what he wanted from Thorin, about what he deserved, but just knowing that whatever it was, was something that Thorin wanted too…

It was enough. It was satisfying, and exhilarating, and just like the gentle kiss Thorin pressed against his lips, he never wanted it to end. It was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for now. I didn't have any intentions of expanding this more than perhaps five chapters... But that obviously didn't work out, haha. I feel like this is a nice place to stop (though I have no idea what to do next). Thanks for sticking with it for so long :)


End file.
